The Enemy of My Enemy is an Ally
by kbird213
Summary: Some people are too dense to realize that an obligation isn't always a sacrifice. Gawain will learn the difference. read and review!
1. Binding

Hello reader! So this is my first delve into the world of Camelot…just sort of dipping my toes in the water. I've pretty much got this whole thing planned out, but I get discouraged when I no get reviews…so review! Even if you just want to say it was a steaming pile of horse manure…that's cool… I promise not to cry enough to ruin my keyboard.

I don't own anything but my computer…so don't sue…cuz you won't get anything except a beat to crap laptop;) ps- this is an unbeta-ed piece so excuse any mistakes. C3PO won't review my work anymore…I haz a sad…

The enemy of my enemy is my ally

There was so much blood. Enough blood to bathe in for weeks at a time; so much so, that the faint of heart would suffocate on the smell of it alone.

He reveled in it.

The blood streaming along the pitted and mud-ridden ground was the life source of a foe he had defeated; but, it was more than that. Having the power, nay, the skill, to rid others of life swiftly was…godly.

There was no right or wrong. There was only what was asked of him…what had to be done. There was no salvation for those who led "good and pure" lives. There was no such thing as "sinless", so why waste the energy with pretense?

Leontes had tried to surrender his soul to his Christian god and what had that accomplished for his immortal soul? Death. A death that was long and drawn out; prolonged by the poison of his emotional turmoil. He had tried to purge himself of sin by wedding his "pure" bride, to what end? To find that purity does not exist in this world save the innocence of babes? To find that painfully obvious when the treachery of his venomous wife finally penetrated his all too virtuous armor?

Gawain had no such blinders keeping him from seeing the true ways of the world.

If the sword of battle at your front did not fell you, then the poison-ridden arrow of politics and distraction would find a way to lodge itself in your back. Even with two swords, Gawain could not always defend both sides, so he kept his mind trained on the arena of death. Here he was a god. In society, he was a novice at best.

Let the king be concerned with the sullied political arena; best leave the killing to those who understood it.

Gawain had no desire to leave his blood fueled sanctuary anytime soon.

"We only wish for the wildings to be gone! We care not how it is done or who we must bind with to do it, but they must be swept from these lands!"

Someone behind the Pict King cleared his throat and the king spun on him like a beast possessed, only to come up short when he eyed the man responsible. The Pict King now cleared his throat and resumed his seat at the table.

"Your lands, I mean, your majesty."

Arthur sat stunned at the turn of today's events, but made no notion of it in his outward appearance. He was calm and collected as always.

When he woke this morning in the cold comfort of his bed, he had been fully prepared to face whatever sorcery Morgan could conjure. He was prepared for the ever looming threat of civil war between his protectorates. He was even prepared to answer the questions over the ever growing concern for Merlin's disappearance and what that meant to his subjects. What he was least expecting and had not been prepared for, was to have the Pict King, Hardte, at his table, in Camelot, discussing the terms by which his faction of Picts would ally themselves with the "boy-king" to dispel the wildings from England forever.

As far as Arthur could tell, this was a brilliant idea. He needed to get rid of the wildings at some point to protect his people anyway and the Picts, themselves had also been a problem on his ever growing to-do list. They were savage and primal and had no respect for royalty nor its law. In fact, Arthur had been vaguely surprised that Hardte spoke English; but the Picts were warriors, through and through, and it was just poor strategy to not know the ways of your opponent. He would later ponder about how much more the Picts had learned while observing them, but the time for queries was not now. Now was time for decisions.

"Let's say I entertain the idea of taking your lands under the protection of Camelot, what do expect from us as your hosts?" The question seemed innocuous enough, he hoped against hope that their requests were not too outlandish. They could be a very strong ally if they conceded to Camelot.

"All we ask is that wildings be driven from our lands and that they understand that to return would be unwise. We want the full protection that Camelot has provided for other tribes and lands. We are willing to negotiate the price to retain our traditional…rights."

It was obvious to Arthur that Hardte had rehearsed this particular speech, but was still fairly impressed that he was able to pronounce the advanced vocabulary flawlessly.

"And what price would that be?" Arthur wondered, both in his head and aloud.

Hardte's expression was unrecognizable to Arthur. He seemed as though he were in a sever amount of pain…or had swallowed something that had disagreed with him, but attempted to mask it with grim determination.

"We would have a marriage between our clans..er..houses." Hardte seemed displeased with the idea of marrying anyone from his clan to anyone outside of it, but had been persuaded that it was the best course of action to bind his clan to the best protection Camelot could offer.

"I'm sorry, Hardte, did you want _me_ to marry one from your clan?" Arthur asked cautiously. He highly doubted he would, _could_, give up Gwen for this alliance.

Hardte's expression did not change from the same sour expression.

"No, but we would require it be one of your highest ranking men. We will accept nothing less for our princess." Hardte stressed the last word, as if trying to nonverbally communicate how much he disliked the idea of marrying his daughter to someone not of their clan, much less, not of royal blood; but as earlier, gave the impression that he had been overruled by his fellow soldiers.

Arthur could sympathize with being pulled in opposing directions by friends and advisors and was impressed by the Pict King's ability to sacrifice for his people's safety. The Picts had suffered cruelly by way of the wildings…this was probably his last resort.

"Let me make sure we understand each other, Hardte. You will ally with me, ground our banner in Pict land, marry your daughter to one of my champions as a show of good faith, and in exchange, we will eradicate the wilding threat from your lands and continue our protection of Pict lands for the foreseeable future?"

Arthur waited for a reply on the edge of his seat, metaphorically. Hardte seemed to be puzzling over some of the verbiage until one of his blue-painted men behind him tapped his shoulder and murmured something to him. Hardte nodded to his men and looked back at Arthur who had never felt so small in his life than he did in this moment with the Pict giant staring him down.

Finally, Hardte nodded towards Arthur and extended a blue-painted arm. Arthur knew a remarkable small amount the Picts and their traditions, but he got the distinct impression that if he shook this beast's hand, he would be traveling to the far north to wipe out hundreds of wilding men and sacrificing one of his men to a Pict bride, but he needed this alliance. He shook Hardte's meaty hand and immediately started the mental debate of who would be submitted the daughter of the Pict King.

So I realize it's not worthy of an M rating yet, but just one little review and I promise to introduce Gawain's bride (if you didn't figure that out yet….i'm sorry for you) and make this fic worthy of it's rating and the tv show that inspired it in the next chapter please review! I'll give you cookies and a pillow that cold on both sides!


	2. Hate

Well, I didn't get any reviews, but I did get a story alert and that's more than enough for me, so here it is:) Chapter 2! I realize now that I didn't mention that this story had some serious spoilers, so I sorry for that. I also know, that having the "old-school" Pict warriors in this story is sort of out of the time-frame of King Arthur, but I had to fix that to make this story work, so go with me on this, k?

Also, I kinda angst-ed up the characters from Camelot, so I apologize for the off-character-ness of this fic. I don't own Camelot, or I would've had Gawain do horrible things much earlier in the plot line;D so no suing! Read and Review!

_How do they keep their stone houses warm during the snows_? Awen wondered as she looked at the stone megalith before her. _I'll guess I'll be here to find out._

The stone house had swallowed her father and brethren this morning and had yet to expel them, even though the sun was falling and the moon had taken its place in the darkening sky. The horses were becoming restless and tired of their restraints. Awen could empathize, and despite her best efforts, she could not calm the horse's nerves anymore than she could calm her own; so she had stopped trying and now sat upon an outlying boulder and pondered what would soon be her new home.

She was not as stupid as her father had hoped. She heard the whispers through the camps of the toll they had planned to pay to secure the swordsmen of this rock fortress with the red fabrics. She would not be allowed to leave this stone prison, because her father didn't believe they could solve their own problems, as far as the wildings were concerned.

Awen spit at the thought. Her father had such little faith in their clan! And now she would be made to suffer for his lack leadership. Made the sheepish wife of English stock at the hands of her own father.

She was a warrior. No, she was THE warrior. The best warrior the Picts of Hardte had to offer. She not only had the best skills with a bow, but she could slit a man's throat before he even realized there was cold steel on his neck. She could provide a clean kill, where her brethren were only butchers. More than that, she was the only offspring sired by the great Hardte. The tribe should be hers by birth-right! Not surrendered to some boy-king for his weapons!

The very idea made her face grow hot with anger and the fine hair on her skin prickle.

"You should be looking after the horses, Awen. It was the only thing asked of you on this venture." Gulcan tsked as he climbed beside Awen on her rocky perch.

"The only thing asked of me, brother?" Awen sneered, not sparing him or the others walking back toward her a glance, keeping her eyes locked on her grey prison. Gulcan was one of the best swordsmen she knew and had been her father's right hand for as long as she could remember, but she could not bring herself to face a man who had, no doubt, just traded her and her lands for a few able-bodied _English_ men.

Gulcan paused. _Did she know?_ No, all of their negotiations had been in the strictest confidence. She was clever though, that much Gulcan was sure of. She was far craftier than Hardte had ever given her credit for. Perhaps she had guessed her fate.

"What do you mean, peahen? Have you been spying again?" It was meant as a jest, but if he knew Awen at all, he knew she would bristle at being called a spy in matters she should've known been informed of in the first place…especially matters that concerned her directly.

Before he could sense her anger, her foot connected with his chest and forced him from his perch atop the boulder. The fall was barely more than being thrown from a horse, but it surprised him so much so, that he couldn't take the opportunity to defend himself before she was on him, fits pummeling.

"You dare jest with me after sentencing me to a life chained within that stone prison? I will gut you and strangle you with your inards!" Awen screeched.

"AWEN! ENOUGH!" came a growl from behind them, but Awen was so consumed by her violent task, she paid no attention to it until she was being pulled from Gulcan by her hair. A sound smack to the face brought her senses back to her, as well as the enraged face of her father into her renewed field of vision.

Hardte tried his best to glare at Awen for beating on one of his best soldiers while he was till trying to prove to the boy-king that he was a capable leader, but Awen glared right back and Hardte couldn't help but smile.

She was every bit the fearless warrior he was. If only she had been born a broader, stronger female, she would've looked more like the ferocious lioness she was instead of the snarling kitten she looked now. Hardte released his daughters braids and she shoved away from him as though his very presence offended her. He sighed. She would never forgive him for what he was going to do next. He squared his shoulders and steeled himself against her fury.

"Come girl, we have business with the King, you and I."

"I would've thought the Picts had left by now," Kay said watching the Pict King re-enter Camelot with his men and the girl he had left to secure the horses. The same girl who had just given a solid beating to one of Hardte's men.

"The fact that the Picts came here for anything other than war is alarming. What on earth do they want with Arthur?" muttered Brastias, watching the blue-painted man below wipe the blood from his freshly bruised face. He'd say one thing for the Pict girl…she fought like a banshee, despite her spritely appearance; but that only troubled him more. Th ePicts were notably deceptive and butchers to the core. Why were they here at all?

"They have come for the protection of Camelot. What else could they possibly be here for, Brastias? It couldn't possibly be your hunting skills." Came Arthurs voice from the doorway behind them.

"Picts?" questioned Kay before Brastias could retort, "coming to Camelot for protection? From what? Dragons? What could the Picts possibly need protection from? What are you playing at brother?"

"Caught me off guard as well, but that's not the most surprised advancement of the day if you can believe it. Would either of you happen to know what happens during a Pict bonding ritual?"

Kay and Brastias were able to stare at Arthur unblinking for about three seconds before they doubled over laughing.

Kay was the first to recover, "I'd imagine one gets married to a Pict during a mating ritual! God, brother, what have you gotten yourself into?"

Brastias had almost gotten his breath back until the word 'mating' was uttered; in which case, he lost it all over again.

"It's not a _mating_ ritual, it's bonding…and I have done nothing except secure the fiercest Pict clan under the Camelot banner. Besides, if anyone will be participating in a Pict BONDING ritual…it will be you, kay."

All three men sobered before the next breath was drawn.

"No."

"Kay…"

"NO!"

"Kay!"

"Arthur! You've played enough in my life when it comes to women…you will NOT choose a bride for me for your own means. I don't dare which army it brings under our colors! I refuse."

"Kay…"

"Don't push me, Arthur! I said no."

Arthur sighed, "Brastias?"

"Forget it, your highness. I might ruin your Pict relations." Brastias laughed it off, praying to any deity that would listen that Arthur wasn't seriously considering him to wed and bed some Pict he-woman.

Arthur was at a loss. He needed at least a man to present to Hardte, even if it didn't end up being the man Hardte's daughter eventually wedded.

"Kay…will you do me a favor, then?"

"No."

"Kay…"

"No. whatever it is, I want no part of it. You're going to have to solve your own problems on this one…your highness." Kay bowed with an uncharacteristic flourish and raced from the outer wall with Brastias as if his ass was on fire.

Damnit! Who on earth would Arthur find before Hardte made his way back to the castle with his daughter? He hadn't expected the girl to travel with her father and had made the over-confident mistake of boasting he already had a great champion in mind for his daughter. One suitable for a daughter of a Pict King. Damnit! He had soooo fucked himself over.

" 'Ur Highness! Are you ever going to get me those new practice swords? How can I train without the proper equipment?"

….He'd be perfect….too bad he might never forgive Arthur for it.

"Gawain! Meet me in the great hall…I have a better offer for you!"

Oh, yes. Gawain would never forgive him.

Gawain shifted his weight nervously while he watched Hardte argue in a language he couldn't understand with a person he couldn't see. The voice sounded female, but he couldn't tell for sure behind the wall of Pict men with their blue designed skin.

Niether Hardte nor whoever it was he was talking to sounded happy and Arthur was being surprisingly mute on the subject. Gawain didn't have the slightest idea why he was here. Perhaps to be keeper of the peace in case one of the Picts decided to let fly with a few punches.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity to Gawain, Hardte turned about, leaving his obviously irate Pict (wife?) behind him, engulfed behind his broad stance.

"Is this your man, your highness?" Hardte asked in perfect English. Gawain was momentarily surprised. He assumed from his arguing with his girl in Pict, that Pict would be today's language of choice; it wasn't. Apparently what they were discussing had something to do with Gawain. Perhaps they were both to choose a champion to fight to the death to resolve some matter of politics.

Gawain relished the thought and soon a smug smile framed his mouth. He could defeat any one of Hardte's Picts.

"Yes, this is Gawain. He is the best champion Camelot has at her disposal." It was the greatest complement Arthur had ever paid him, but Arthur didn't even glance at Gawain while he said it. Arthur was a peculiar King, of that much, Gawain was sure and thought nothing more on the matter.

"Good." Hardte suddenly grabbed the girl (and she was most definitely a girl) in front of him and presented her to Arthur as though she were a gift. Gawain didn't understand; did Arthur need her for something? She didn't look old enough to be offered as a bride and she didn't appear to have any other attributes that would make her a valuable asset.

_Her hair maybe_…

Gawain blinked as the thought came to him, unbidden. He suddenly focused on the girl's hair. It was...pretty. Completely unlike the styles of Guinevere and the late Igraine, but…pretty nonetheless. It was full of war braids and wild auburn curls. It was the type of hair a man could get his hands caught in…shame she was practically a child.

"The ceremony will be a Pict ceremony as was promised. Gulcan is our shaman and can perform the ceremony as soon as it pleases your highness." Hardte said; all the while, the girl who had moved to his side was hissing words in a language neither Gawain nor Arthur could comprehend.

_Ceremony?_ What had Arthur gotten himself into? Was Gawain supposed to fight with that infant? She couldn't be more than fifteen, if that!

"Thank you, Hardte. I shall give you a date as soon as I can discuss the matter with my champions. Tonight you will be given rooms in Camelot," Arthur gestured to Kay and Brastias who had been lingering behind the pillars in the great hall. "Will you please find rooms for our new friends, tonight, gentlemen?"

Kay and Brastias didn't look nearly as confused as Gawain felt…in fact, they both looked on the verge of laughter. Gawain shot Kay a questioning look, but Kay seemed to find that even more humorous and started snickering odd little half-laughing noises until Brastias smacked him on the back.

"O' course, _your highness_." Brastias said with a smile and a half curtsey that looked odd and out of place in the tense air of the great hall. "This way gentlemen…"

Brastias and Kay led the Pict horde out of the great hall past Arthur and Gawain. Up close, Gawain could see that all of the warriors were loaded to the gills with weapons…weapons that they would have readily available in the rooms that Arthur had just given them in a castle that housed near a hundred unarmed civilians….Gawain had never thought Arthur an idiot until this moment.

The girl glared at him with cat-like eyes as she walked past. Now that she was closer, he could see that she wasn't quite a child, just small for her age perhaps. He'd guess she was maybe twenty years of age under all her blue paint and leather wrappings, but still too young to expect him to kill without cause.

As if tempting fate, the girl spat at him as she walked past, leaving Gawain thoroughly shocked. Hardte made his way to the back of the group were the girl had taken up position and smacked her so hard that her head snapped to the side and smacked into the Pict man standing next to her who steadied her when she came to rights. Gawain felt his hands twitch, but made no other motion. This wasn't his problem. All he had to worry about was cleaning the spit off his shoe.

_And not smacking Hardte three times harder than he smacked the cat-eyed girl…_

Gawain growled at the thought he was trying very hard not to think, but his reaction was misinterpreted. Hardte looked at him sharply.

"My apologies, Champion. Her behavior will be corrected." The girl growled at Hardte and raised his hand to strike her again.

Gawain thought he might be over stepping his bounds if he, himself, stopped Hardte, so he did the only thing the ridiculous social system would allow him. He grabbed Arthur's arm and asked whatever power was listening that Arthur would understand.

For reasons Gawain did not comprehend (was there anything he did understand about today?) Arthur smiled faintly before he stayed Hardte's hand.

"That's quite alright Hardte, there was no offence. Please, go make yourselves at home."

Hardte looked from Arhtur to Gawain and back again. "No offence?" Hardte asked Gawain directly.

Gawain was stunned that it mattered so much to Hardte, but shook his head in the negative. Hardte nodded and turned back to follow Kay and Brastias back into the castle, leaving the girl pressing her thin fingers to the blotchy red skin of her cheek.

Gawain hadn't realized he was still clasping Arthur's arm until he felt Arthur's fingers attempting to free his arm from Gawain's grasp. Gawain released him immediately and stepped away. He looked at Arthur for a solid minute before he spoke.

"What the fuck was that all about?"

Arthur remained silent for a few seconds as if gauging Gawain's reaction before he said anything.

"Hardte's Picts have aligned with Camelot in order to eliminate the wildings."

Gawain considered this…it would be nice to fight some wildings, even if it was along side some Picts. It also explained why the Picts were here, but it didn't explain any of the weirdness concerning the cat-eyed girl or Gawain.

"And? What aren't you telling me?"

"…Their alliance is dependent upon the marriage of Hardte's daughter to one of Camelot's campions…"

Gawain saw red.

"And which champion did you decide would marry that Pict?" Gawain grit out through clenched teeth and barely controlled violence.

"Gawain…."Arthur started, but Gawain stormed from the hall before he could even begin to explain.

Gawain needed to kill something before he actually wrung Arthur's scrawny neck. Gawain stalked towards the new practice grounds to beat the faith out of some unsuspecting trainees.

He was so angry with Arthur. He was so angry with him for forcing him into the ridiculous circle of Camelot's social circle and all that "greater good" horse crap that Merlin had preached. He hated that he knew he would have no choice in the matter and he would be forced to marry that scrawny infant who looked barley old enough to thread a bow. He hated that he was now a sheep just like the rest of Arthur's champions…just waiting to be herded in whichever direction suited their shepherd best. He hated Arthur for not choosing Kay. He hated Arthur for not choosing Brastias. He hated Kay and Brastias for not surrendering themselves to the Pict girl instead of him. He hated that they knew his fate before he did.

Most of all, He hated that he didn't really hate any of them at all. What he really hated, was that he could barely stand to be in his own presence and now there was going to be someone else who would learn to hate him as much as he hated himself…and he didn't have the power to stop it.


	3. Bonding

Took me a while to write this, cuz I couldn't decide on a couple of major plot points, but finally got an update! Woot woot! Anywho, It's pretty long and is really just back story still:( but the next chapter will have more zest and spice, I swear! Read and review pleases!

* * *

><p>Chapter 3<p>

"What am I going to do with you, Awen?" Hardte asked his daughter who was now hog-tied in the corner after trying to destroy everything residing in their stone chamber.

"Marry me off! I thought you already found your solution to the incurable disease that is me!" Awen screeched.

It had been going on for hours….the ridiculous yelling in Pict and crashing and thumping of odd ends and furniture in the rooms adjoining Gawain's.

The girl had quite a battle cry on her when she put some energy into it…and quite a screech when she didn't. He had no idea what she was saying, but she sounded more than a bit pissed.

He had been trying to puzzle together how she might be feeling about this truly shit-filled situation, but each time he felt he was coming on some sort of break through, he was once again consumed with the bleak, red-rimmed thoughts of his own circumstances.

He was going to have to marry that banshee. That wild-haired, cat-eyed excuse for a woman was going to be his wife until death. If he was lucky, maybe there would be some sort of skirmish tomorrow that would kill him before his impending nuptials….Gawain hated that thought, everytime he had it…which was about six times in the last hour. He had purpose in this life and did not have any plans to end it any time soon. More than that, if he were to die, it would be in battle beside a fellow knight, protecting something he believed in; not some ridiculous training accident as the image his subconscious had been supplying suggested.

Gawain sighed as the girl screeched again and Hardte's bellow quickly followed. There was an abrupt silence afterwards followed by Hardte's low mumble and the sound of a door opening.

Gawain decided sleep would evade him tonight so he gave in to his curiosity and stood to go crouch by the wall nearest Hardte's rooms. If there was to be some sort of secret initiative behind the Picts choice to join Camelot, Gawain would rather know of it now, than after marrying the screeching she-devil…who was remarkably silent at the moment.

"What have you learned Gulcan?" Hardte asked in English in what was probably his lowest octave, though it was easily heard by Gawain.

"This Lord Gawain is a warrior. Very little is known about him, at least by the commoners, aside from the fact that he is the King's executioner. He fights and he kills and has no other discernable passions. I cannot even find a woman who has had him to find what kind of brute he is without a sword…"Gulcan trailed off as though perplexed.

They were talking about him? Gawain seethed and fisted the blade tucked into his boot. Why would it matter to Hardte what manner of man he was? He had just sold his daughter to the enemy without first meeting her intended groom and now he shows interest? Hardte was a brute. His curiosity didn't make sense, unless he was a sadist. Besides, so what if Gawain's life was consumed with death? That was a Picts life as well! And Gawain had had plenty of women within the Camelot walls, like….

Christ! He hadn't had any had he? Thinking back, he couldn't think of a single time he had taken a woman since he came to Camelot…or for the few months before…Damn Arthur and his quests!

Gawain gripped the leather hilt of his dagger until his knuckles turned white and harder still until he heard Hardte speak.

"Perhaps he does not take women within these walls, Gulcan." Hardte sighed. "Gulcan, I will not surrender her to a butcher."

Gawain dropped his blade and fell back on his haunches. _Butcher? BUTCHER?_ Hardte knew nothing about him, but what he had just been told and had labeled him a butcher?

_Wouldn't you?_

Gawain snarled. That the hell was creating all these unnecessary thoughts?

Someone sighed in the next room over. "My king, I will learn everything and more about this Gawain, but you must have faith in your decision. In Arthur's choice. Your people need this."

Gawain glared at the wall between him and this Gulcan character. He preached far too much of that "greater good" horse crap that Merlin was so fond of….but he also saw the logic in everything, just like Merlin. He could see through plans before they were set into action. He was probably a fearsome thing to behold of the battle field. Gawain begrudged him a sliver of respect for that prospect alone.

"We no need NOTHING!" the familiar feminine voice croaked in broken English. The words sounded foreign in her odd lilting voice; like flowers going out of three feet of snow.

_Pict words suit her better._

Gawain ground his teeth and shoved that thought to the back of his mind. So the girl spoke English like her father and brethren (if perhaps with a little less comprehension)? Good to know he supposed. He didn't have much to say to her, but it was a small comfort to know that he could if he wanted.

"Quiet, Awen!" Hardte scolded.

_Awen?_ The name was…odd. Even for Pict standards.

_Beautiful._

Fuck! Was he to be plagued by these thoughts forever? Or were they just a result of his stress inducing situation?

The Picts switched back into their mother language and Gawain was left leaning on the cold stone wall between their rooms wondering what horrible things they were saying about him to his future bride.

It wasn't fair that all that was known about him by his future bride was preconceived notions, but he had lived long enough to know that life was rarely ever fair. If life were fair, he wouldn't even be in this mess! If life were fair, that girl would've still been in the North and not faced with spending the rest of her life with him.

Gawain almost smiled as he came to the sudden realization of why he couldn't blame the Pict girl for anything in their new predicament…she was going to be stuck with _him_ for the rest of the foreseeable future and it wasn't by her own choice. She was as trapped by this situation as he was.

Gawain gave himself a small self-depreciating smile and made his way back to his bed. When he finally fell into the realm of the unconscious, it was with that small anguished smirk still on his mouth.

"I was thinking of having the ceremony sooner rather than later, but it is obviously your choice and I will stand by whatever you decide." Arthur half-yelled to Gawain over the sound of clashing blades in Gawain's new practice arena. Gawain gnashed his teeth and head-butted the trainee who had lowered his guard. His forehead exploded with pain almost immediately, but it was a welcome change to the Arthur-induced headache he had been fighting for hours. The trainee fell to the ground, dropping his sword and clutching his freshly broken nose.

Arthur sighed. "I thought you said nobody wins with a headbutt…"

He had been trying to get a concrete response out of Gawain for the last half hour, but had only received non-committal grunts. Meanwhile, every trainee who had fought with Gawain within the past thirty minutes had gotten thoroughly beaten and bloodied. Another one bites the dust, Arthur thought as he looked to the latest trainee (Drustan, he thought his name was) who had reclaimed his sword and was obviously going to try another go at Gawain.

"I'd rather not have the ceremony at all, Arthur. How's that?" Gawain said with a twirl of his dueling swords and a kick to the trainee's chest, pushing him back to the ground.

"Gawain…" Arthur began.

"Get it over with, Arthur! I don't care when it happens! As soon as bloody possible, for all I care! Make it this afternoon if you must…" Gawain threw down his blades and stormed away from the field.

"Gawain!" Arthur ran after him towards the shore line. Gawain was fast, much faster than Arthur and from the looks of it, Gawain had run from the field like his ass was on fire.

When Arthur finally found him, Gawain was sitting on a rock by the shore, his head in his hands and his usually neat hair sticking out at all angles between his clenched fingers. Arthur had never seen him look so disheveled and, frankly, had no idea how to proceed.

"Gawain…I realize you don't want this and, believe me, I don't want it for you, but this will ensure the survival of Camelot in the North. The Picts claim _hundreds_ of miles of territory and could claim _hundreds _more when we help them usurp the wildings….I wish I didn't have to ask this of you, but I'm afraid I must…the best I can offer you is a chance to control the timing of it, Gawain…" Arthur fiddled with his sword nervously as he awaited Gawain's response. Gawain was furious, that much was certain. Arthur could feel that radiating off of him in waves; a sort of barely chained, beastial violence that would snap its restraints and make itself known at even the slightest disturbance.

"Tomorrow."

Arthur blinked and shook his head hard as if trying to dispel a pesky insect.

"Tomorrow what, Gawain?"

"I'll marry her tomorrow." Gawain said, his head still clenched between his hands, elbows still perched on his knees. Arthur thought he looked as though he were made of glass and just one push would shatter him. Arthur was not suicidal and therefore had no desire to push him.

"Alright. Tomorrow. I'll get everything you'll need, just…please show up." Arthur didn't mean to sound exasperated, but when Gawain's head snapped up, his expression very clearly said you-speak-another-word-and-I-remove-your-head-from-your-neck.

Arthur nodded and very cautiously walked away. It was unwise to give Gawain your back for any reason, much less when he was as upset with someone as he was with Arthur at the moment…but Arthur had faith in Gawain. It was a faith he was positive would not fail him.

When Arthur made it back to the grass lands of Camelot to spread the news of tomorrow's nuptials, he heard a bellow from the shoreline that made his throat clench and his stomach seize. It was the sound of anguish…a sound his heart knew all too well.

Awen could not remember the last time she cried.

It must've been from laughing too hard at one of Sebast's failed pranks, or one of Gulcan's few, but favorable off-color quips.

She had never cried out of loss or bloodshed. She had never cried for the torment of others or her own physical afflictions. And she had never, NEVER cried out of self-pity.

Not until this evening, she hadn't. Now she was crying like a girl possessed…and not the pretty type of crying some of the lesser females of her clan had done when they wanted attention…that stupid tears-sliding-down-but-no-sound-emits type of crying; but the all-out, fetal position, on the ground, hair in face and mouth, formal paint running down the cheeks, whole body shaking, sobbing type of crying. The type of crying that makes your stomach ache and makes breathing almost impossible after too long and you actually have to force yourself to stop crying long enough to gasp at the air you've been deprived.

She couldn't even cry in peace either! Her father had been too worried about her running away (with good reason) that he had sent Gulcan after her…to watch her cry…like a child…on the muddy forest floor…and why? Because she was getting married tomorrow and there was nothing she could do about it. Her father would not listen to her pleas, even after he heard what a wicked man this Guh-wayne was! She could only understand half of what Gulcan said, but she could tell by her father's expression that he was not pleased with Arthur's choice. As well he shouldn't be!

This Guh-wayne had two swords attached to his back when she met him. Two! Because he was so inept with a blade that one would not suffice! His face was unmarred. He had no scars of battle to prove his worth as a soldier! How could anyone suspect him of being a boot-chur? Awen didn't know what that meant, but her father had said it like it was something to fear. She was not afraid of this Guh-wayne. He was a pansy-man! Just like Sebast. And he would have just as much luck at being her husband as Sebast did in trying to divest her of her leathers.

Awen took an awkward shuddering breath and grinned through her still flowing tears. She wondered if Sebast ever found his other testicle.

"What is that?" Gawain asked, eyeing the blue paint Guinevere held cautiously.

"Oh, well I was talking to that older Pict man last night, Gulcan, I think? And he said it is customary for both the bride and groom of a bonding ceremony to wear the pledging paint. I saw a few of Gulcan's designs and I'm pretty sure I could paint you up as well as any Pict." Guinevere finished with a smile that suited her charm, but had little to no effect of Gawain who still eyed the paint as though it were a poison.

Guinevere barely smothered her laugh in time to meet Gawain's eyes when he looked up from the paint.

"Just take off your overshirt and I'll get started…" Guinevere half-laughed. She had always liked Gawain. Since the moment He had come back with the men, she had liked him. He seemed to her like an animal untrained; like a great, big wolf that was curious about the smoke from a fire and got too close to the camp, only to be captured for his curiousity.

"No." Gawain said, crossing his broad arms over his chest in the masculine epitome of resistence.

"What do you mean, no? It's a centuries old Pict tradition!"

"I mean no. You're not going to paint me in that blue garbage for a ceremony I want no part in."

"Fine, then you can paint yourself…"

"No. no paint."

"Gawain…"

"Yes, that is my name. very good."

"Don't sass me because you're upset, Gawain. I know a great deal about talking to men and.."

"I'll bet you do."

Guinevere stared at him, open-mouthed in shock. She had never heard him speak to anyone like that, much less her. In fact, this was probably the longest conversation she had ever had with Gawain, and he had just gone and ruined it with his fowl temper.

"Fine," Guinevere said, picking up her skirts and heading out of his room, "but you had better adjust your attitude, Sir Gawain. I just want to make you aware, that you are not the only one effected by this union and I suspect you to remember that this evening…"

Gawain stared at her like she had sprouted a second head. What the devil was she on about now? Weren't women supposed to storm off in a huff when you insulted them? What more could she possibly have to say?

Guinevere turned back into his room that she could face him directly when she said it. She would not be intimidated by him enough to let it go unsaid.

"I mean, that tonight is your wedding night, and while that does boast some…pleasantries, they mean nothing if forced. No means no, no matter the language it's said in…do I make myself clear?" Guinevere felt horrible for talking down to him like that and knew that he would have more than one thing to say about her 'saying no', but it needed to be said. She had no idea what a wolf's code of honor consisted of.

Gawain didn't think he'd ever want to strangle anyone as much as he had wanted to strangle Arthur two days ago, but right now he wanted to shake Guinevere so badly that his hands were twitching. Maybe she and Arthur really did belong together. They certainly got on his nerves equally. She thought he would rape the Pict girl? Was she insane? If anyone needed a talk on the proper sexual practices, she should recite it to a mirror!

"Maybe you should've understood the word no before you got married, Guinevere." Gawian sneered, "And I would _never_ resort to forcing myself on a woman! Just leave you pathetic woman…"

Guinevere felt tears spring to her eyes, but forced them aside and plastered on a smile. She knew he didn't mean anything he said about her, he was just angry, but it didn't lessen the bite of his words. She had gotten her point across and was satisfied with the vehemence of his response, but even she could understand when she was being dismissed.

"Then, congratulations, Gawain." Guinevere curtsied and took her leave.

Gawain winced as regret bit at him. He would have time to apologize later. Now, he needed to find someone who knew something about the ceremony he was about to participate in.

She was glaring at him. He couldn't see her glaring, but he felt her gaze burning into him like a small sun somewhere next to his left shoulder. He felt the irrational urge to loosen his shirt at the neck to relieve the heat.

He didn't understand a word of what was being said and had absolutely no idea what was going on. There was some dirt that had been rubbed on his face as well as the girl, and the Pict, Gulcan, had been muttering for the better part of an hour in a language Gawain couldn't distinguish any words from. Hardte had been glaring at Gawain for as long as the girl had, but with much less intensity. Gawain was about three seconds away from throwing up his hands and running from the whole situation before they had a chance to complete it.

Awen was three heartbeats away from smashing Guh-wayne's head into the rock in front of them and facing the dishonorable death of killing a Pict brother…which he was, now that he had the mother's earth on his skin.

She hadn't been paying any attention to the ceremony. She was too focused on how focused Guh-wayne was. He had his eyes fixed on the forest in front of him and he not moved his eyes from that spot since the beginning of the ceremony.

While it angered her to no end, that he hadn't so much as glanced at her since the ceremony began, she was also relieved to have the chance to study him while she waited for the ceremony to end.

His clothing was odd. His leathers seemed stretched and in excess. She didn't see how he could move in so much cloth, but for all she knew, he didn't. It could make him slow and cumbersome. His hair was braid-less and cropped at his shoulders. While the length of it would've been shameful on a Pict man, he wore the look…well. She hated to admit it, but he would've made an attractive man, _if_ he were Pict. On principle alone, she could not consider him handsome.

Gulcan suddenly grabbed her hand and she hissed at the unexpectedness of the action. No way could they be so close to the end of the ceremony. Gulcan gave her a stern look, but said nothing. Awen glanced back at Guh-wayne to find his eyes moved from their spot in the forest to Gulcan. She was surprised to find him looking amused.

Awen looked back at Gulcan just in time to watch him slice open the skin of her palm and leave her bleeding hand hanging in mid air to cut the same path over Guh-wayne's extended palm. She was half surprised to see extensive calluses over his palm and fingers.

Awen watched in horror as Gulcan raised their bloodied hands and almost recoiled into a ball when he placed their palms together over their heads.

That was it. One simple action of placing his bloodied, rough hand on hers, and it was done. They were married.

Remember to review please! Even if just to tell me how slow it is!


	4. Aftermath

So I just realized that all the lovely paragraph breaks I had originally inserted have not been showing up once I post the chapters on fanfic:( While this is all very distressing, I have consoled myself with my new method of story breaks. YAY! Fingers crossed! Also, Camelot came to DVD this week (go buy it!) and has been forcing me to spend many hours in front of the tellie, so That's why this update took well over a week to post:( a thousand apologies, readers. Anywho, let's get on with the Gawain-ness;p

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><p>Chapter 4<p>

She was his wife…

Fuck.

She was his wife…

FUCK.

It was a simple mantra, perhaps, but it had been racing through his mind since the second he released her hand from their bloodied clasp nearly an hour ago.

What the hell was he supposed to do with her? Was she going to disrupt his entire future at Camelot? Or did she really change anything at all? Could he simply ignore her as easily as she was ignoring him right now?

She was a strange one, to be sure. She had been staring holes into the side of his face throughout the entire ceremony and now she dodged his gaze as surely as she dodged through the masses of celebrating peoples…Shame they were the only two not celebrating their union. More than simply ignoring him, she was pointedly avoiding him. He had barely been married for an hour and already his wife was ignoring him. The idea was almost laughable, except that Gawain knew this would be his reality. He would have a wife he couldn't talk to, couldn't bed, and who would hate him with every ounce of her being for as long as he lived, possibly longer.

.

Awen felt arms wrap around the exposed flesh of her middle and feared for a split second that it might be _him_, but was quickly relieved to find that the arms belonged to measly Sebast.

"Why don't you dance with me and find out if your cold husband experiences envy, eh, Awen?"Sebast slurred in her ear, exhaling his wine-drenched breath down her neck and hair. Awen resisted the urge to gag and instead settled on yanking her head back, fast and forcing her elbow into Sebast's ribcage. He stumbled back, panting, with his arms over his ribs and freshly broken nose spilling blood down his face.

"You do not have permission to put your hands on my person, you pathetic excuse of a man." Awen sneered, watching his weak display with disgust.

There was laughter behind her and Awen rounded on whoever dared laugh at her, fully intending to rip their voice box from their throat, until she saw the boy-king and his men were the ones chuckling…but it wasn't her they were laughing at.

While Awen had been too distracted by the the truly vile Sebast to keep track him, Guh-wayne had moved from his chair and removed his swords from their sheaths. His stance said he wanted to fight, but his expression said he was amused. He wasn't quite smiling, but the corners of his mouth had lifted slightly from their usual grimace.

Awen didn't understand his expression (and didn't care to), but his stance she understood perfectly; If he wanted a fight, he'd get himself a fight.

Awen pulled the scabbard from her boot and crouched, licking her lips in anticipation. She couldn't wait to un-man him in front of his boy-king who had surrendered him to her wrath.

Gawain's gaze shifted to her mouth for a brief second before returning one of his swords to his back and grinning at her. Grinning! As though the thought of fighting her was funny! She'd show him how terribly mistaken he was.

The boy-king said something to Guh-wayne that sounded like he wanted him to stop, but Guh-wayne chuckled under his breath and rolled his shoulders, motioning for her to come at him. Not needing any further encouragement, Awen launched herself at him, swinging her blade at his thigh, but before she could make contact, Gawain dodged and brought down the hilt of his sword as if to knock her unconscious with it. Awen anticipated this, and crouched, rolling to her back and kicking his legs out from under him.

Awen smirked at his mildly shocked expression, but he recovered quicker than she would've expected and jumped to his feet again, before she got a chance to pound the living daylights out of him. Gawain swung his blade with a flourish, but made no other move to hurt her, even though he had the higher ground. This infuriated Awen and she jumped to her feet, bringing her blade down, hard, aiming for his jugular. Gawain dismissed her assault with a simple swing of his blade that sent her scabbard flying to the opposite end of the room. Utterly shocked, Awen made positively no resistance when Gawain kicked her legs out from under her and brought his sword to her throat.

Awen lay panting on the hard floor of the great hall, furious and completely embarrassed as the noise level diminished to silence and Gawain returned his blade to it's sheath at his back. He was smiling at her again, but it wasn't a smile of mirth, it was a smile that said I'm-better-at-this-than-you-which-means-you-no-longer-pose-a-threat. He extended a hand as if to help her up, but Awen slapped his hand away and climbed to her feet, mumbling about how he would soon learn to regret judging her skill so quickly.

Gawain was grinning as the little Pict witch stormed from the room mumbling under her breath in Pict. He assumed it was something derogatory about him, but he didn't mind. She was an able warrior and would be near impossible to defeat if she honed her skills. She was fast. Faster than him, he dared to admit, but her movements were full of emotion and sloppy. She fought like she was taking revenge.

_Wonder if she fucks that way._

Gawain's smile fell at the thought that had no business taking up residence in his mind and looked to Arthur who had just cleared his throat, trying to gain Gawain's attention. Arthur looked less than pleased, but not all together mad…more disappointed than anything else.

"Well, I'm sure that wasn't a visual representation of the outcome of this glorious union, so I'm sure Sir Gawain wishes to retire to his room to apologize to his new bride, but before you go," Arthur addressed the fairly shocked crowd, holding his goblet up to Gawain, "To the bride and groom, may your union be blessed and filled with happiness."

Arthur's toast was met with many cheers and much drinking, but Gawain could feel heat rise in his cheeks and the hairs on the back of his neck rising at the unwelcomed attention. He looked around the hall, meaning to find the cleanest exit and instead found a small group of Pict males glaring at him. One of which was the stupid male who's nose had been broken by Awen after he laid hands upon her. Gawain wanted to smirk at him, for reasons he didn't want to consider, but instead found his attention snagged by the small silver blade a few yards from the broken-nosed Pict. Awen's blade.

_On a first name basis now?_

Gawain grimaced but walked over to retrieve the blade, past the few glaring Pict men and made his way towards his room. Before his could mount the steps, a hand grasped his shoulder turning him about. Expecting it to be Arthur with some last minute advice (probably something along the lines of what Guinevere had said), Gawain rounded on them with the beginnings of a 'what do you want' to be stopped cold by the face of the Pict man, Gulcan, who had performed the ritual earlier.

"Though the my King will never admit it, he cares for his daughter...and I think of her as nothing less than my own kin, so I will only say this once and will deny I ever uttered the words if you repeat them, but…If you hurt her in any way, I mean even as much as her father laying hands on her for her insolence yesterday, I will personally end you. Do we understand each other?" Gulcan said in a low voice so as not to be overheard.

Gawain was shocked, which seemed impossible for the amount of shock he had been subjected to this last week, but still…receiving death threats from Hardte's right hand man to play nice with Awen was…well, shocking. Gawain gave a curt nod in the affirmative and Gulcan released his shoulder, nodding as well. Gawain continued up the stairs, feeling oddly out-of-body. As though he were watching himself walk to his chamber from someone else's body. Surely it was not he, himself who was now wedded to a Pict witch in a marriage of convenience. Surely it was not him who was now walking to an empty marriage bed only to stay up all night, making sure his bride didn't kill him in his sleep. Surely this was not his life. Surely he was dreaming and in a few minutes he would wake from this odd, twisted dream in a practice field somewhere and life would be what it had always been again.

Gawain had almost convinced himself of this by the time he had made it to his chamber, until he opened the door and found Awen couched in front of his weapons chest, clutching his scabbard to her chest like she owned it. Gawain sighed and made his way over to his bed, preparing himself for what was probably the longest night of his life.

.

Awen watched Gawain like a hawk as he entered the room. No, watched wasn't the right word. She glared at him. He moved like a man defeated as he walked around the room, pulling off his boots and swords. He had just humiliated her to her core, and he was removing his weapons now as though he didn't have a care in the world! She would've killed him in his sleep if she thought she could get away with it, but after thorough consideration, Awen decided it was a hopeless idea and instead decided she would keep him up all night in constant awareness of her, hoping to destroy his concentration tomorrow. Then tomorrow she would kill him.

Gawain put his swords in their place on the table nearest his bed and removed his over shirt. He briefly considered removing his tunic, but it was cold out and there was no way he would be sleeping under the warmth of his covers tonight. Blankets could be easily tangled if someone pouched on him during the night, blade in hand, and tangled limbs meant disadvantage. Gawain sighed and started unlacing his vambraces, placing them next to his swords. She still hadn't moved from her crouch and he suspected that she wouldn't, unless she was moving to try to take his life. She was glaring at him again through her slitted cat-like eyes. He didn't have to look at her to know she was watching him and for whatever reason, it unnerved him.

He pulled her scabbard from the waist of his pants and tossed it across the floor to her, mostly to distract for a moment's rest from her intense gaze.

Awen winced at the sound of metal hitting stone as Guh-wayne threw a blade in her general direction. He didn't look at her as he did it, just kept his eyes focused out his small window, just like he had during the ceremony earlier. Awen tried not to look at what had been thrown at her, but after a couple of seconds, her curiosity got the better of her and she flicked her gaze down to what it was he had thrown to her.

Gawain glanced at her as soon as he felt her gaze shift from him. He felt a small smile turn his lips at her expression. Her eyes were comically wide and her jaw had dropped, the epitome of the expression of shock. He turned his head back to the window before she had a chance to notice, but he heard her scramble forward and take the blade to clutch to her chest as well.

Awen continued glaring at him as soon as she had her mother's scabbard safe in hand and noticed he was now smiling. He armed her, thinking she was no threat at all and now he smiled! He was so arrogant!

"You will live only long enough to regret underestimating me, Guh-wayne." Awen sneered.

Gawain's smile dropped off his face as though it had never been there and he stared at her openly. She was spewing some nonsense in Pict, but there at the end, it had sounded like she had said his name. It was broken and splintered, like her English last night, but it definitely resembled his name…just with more venom.

"What did you say?" He found himself asking before he could stop the words from forming.

Awen shifted in her odd blade-clutching-crouch, but looked at him directly as she said it again.

The same garbled nonsense and then…Guh-wayne.

She had broken his name into two words. He smiled, which she obviously misinterpreted, because she growled at him again and shifted into a full battle stance.

Gawain threw up his hands and rolled his eyes. What on earth had he done now?

"You would do well to stop aggravating me before I reconsider my own wisdom and kill you while your sleep!" Awen growled at him.

Gawin placed his hands at his hips and released a breath slowly through his nose, his expression murderous. He had no idea what she was saying, but he had obviously upset her somehow. He couldn't do this. He didn't know what would set her off, and as it was, it seemed his very existence was bothering her. Gawain grabbed his swords and sheaths from the table and made his way back to the door. He would sleep in the stables tonight and she could just sit in his room and be bothered by him without him standing around to witness it. He paused at the door to address her before leaving for the night.

"My name is Gawain, not Guh-wayne."

And then he walked out, leaving her stunned silent, blades in hand.

.

Gawain made it only three steps before he decided that leaving the room had probably been the wrong decision, but his pride would not allow him to turn back. Instead of going to the stables directly, Gawain went straight to Arthur's room, if only to punch him square in the face.

Gawain reached Arthur's door to hear low talking on the other side of the door. Great. Now he'd have an audience to witness his violence, but at this time of night, he assumed it could only be Kay, so he took his chances and burst through the door anyway.

Gawain shouldn't have been surprised to see Guinevere sitting by the fire talking to Arthur in the middle of the night, but it threw him slightly off guard and deflated his sails almost immediately.

"Gawain? What is it? Has she made an attempt on your life already? Because I must be honest with you, that is not going to be a viable reason to annul the marriage…" Arthur said rather quickly, as though he had been expecting Gawain at any moment and had been figuring out ways to reason with him before it happened.

Gawin snorted and despite Guinevere's presence, he did just as he had planned to do, and punched Arthur hard across his jaw.

"Arthur!" Guinevere all but shrieked as she stood to steady him.

"S'alright. I deserved it, most definitely." Arthur said, wiping the blood from the other side of his mouth. "Did you leave her alone in the room?" Arthur asked, eyeing Gawain with an almost skeptical expression.

Gawain nodded and stepped back. He had done what he had come to do, as far as he was concerned, his work here was done and he didn't need to stay around to answer any of Arthur's questions.

"You can't just leave her there Gawain!" Guinevere said to his retreating form.

"I thought you told me to leave her alone, Guinevere." Gawain sneered over his shoulder and walked out towards the stables, not sparing another glance towards Camelot or her King.

.

Arthur looked to Guinevere as Gawain left the room in a huff.

"Did you say something to him earlier?"Arthur asked out of curiosity.

Guinevere gave a sheepish grin and turned her face away from Arthur's all too observant gaze.

"I may have said something to the effect that he should understand that a wedding night in an arranged marriage should be a woman's choice…"

Arthur blinked then smiled. "I'll bet he took that well."

Guinevere turned her head back to Arthur and grinned. "Arthur, I'm going to go make sure she's all right. And before you tell me it's too dangerous, I should tell you that nothing you say can stop me."

Guinevere gave Arthur a small peck on the cheek and practically skipped out of the room with Arthur still grinning.

Arthur watched her go and wondered how any man could watch her for more than five minutes and not be in love with her. Then he realized how true those words were and began a jealousy fueled pacing marathon until Guinevere returned.

.

A knock came from the door and Awen just about jumped out of her skin. She did, however, drop the strange papers she had been looking at that she had found underneath Gawain's weapons; weapons that were now spread in an easily accessible circle about her.

The door opened and Awen grasped the hilt of the claymore nearest her right hand and waited for Gawain to enter and see how well she had armed herself. She didn't know why, but now that Gawain had bested her, she was determined to prove how skilled she was…before she killed him, of course. So imagine her surprise when instead of the arrogant warrior she was now married to coming through the door, it was a fair English woman with hair the color of pale straw.

"Awen?"The woman said cautiously, walking across the room to perch on the bed.

Awen didn't know what to do. Was this woman a threat? She didn't look capable of anything more than sewing, but then again, neither did Awen. Awen settled on putting the Claymore back in its place in her circle and jerking her head in the affirmative.

The woman smiled, a stunning, unassuming smile that made Awen want to like her, but instead stared at her suspiciously.

"My name is Guinevere or Gwen if you prefer." Guinevere said smiling and walked forward, her hand extended. Awen sat back on her haunches, eyeing Guinevere and her outstretched hand and felt utterly lost. Gwen's smile faltered as she looked from her hand to Awen, but eventually she accepted this small defeat and placed her arm back at her side.

"I know we haven't been introduced, but I just wanted to make sure you're okay. I saw Gawain leave and he looked quite upset, so I came to make sure you weren't upset too." Guinevere resumed her perch on the bed and looked at Awen with genuine concern.

Awen was too confused by this woman to comprehend her words and it took her a few moments to understand that Guinevere wanted a response to her concern. Awen searched through her limited vocabulary of English and tried to find an appropriate word. She was so much better at listening to English than she was at speaking the horrible, grumpy language. She thought she had the right word, but she wouldn't know until she tried.

"I good." Awen tested in the stormy, sharp language of the English.

Guinevere smiled even broader at Awen. She was a smart girl and even though she didn't speak English terribly well, she had no doubt that Awen would pick it up quickly…much more quickly than it was taking Gawain to read and write, but all she had to go off of was Kay's testimony for that. Speaking of which…

"Oh, you found Gawain's books!" Gwen said, stepping forward to crouch just outside Awen's circle of weapons and leaning slightly over a mean looking curved sword to get a better look at the papers spread over the books. "And his practice papers, from the look of it. I guess Kay was right, he isn't improving much." Gwen gave her a small grin that felt like she was sharing a secret with Awen, even though Awen didn't understand what she was talking about.

These papers were practice? For what? Did they have fighting secrets written on them? Awen had a sudden urge to learn how to read the nasty English on these papers if only to find the secrets they could tell.

"Well I'm glad you're alright, Awen. I'll leave you to your quest," Gwen said, gesturing about the papers, and standing to leave, "You'll have let me know if you find anything interesting." Guinevere said with a wink and left an utterly confused Awen couched on the floor of Gawain's chamber in her perimeter of arms.

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><p>Whew, okay. Another chapter out! Partay! Anywho, plz review! Reviews make me happy and remind me that I have a story to write instead of just watching a Harry potter marathon:)<p> 


	5. Tension

Helloooo all! I received outstanding feedback from the last chapter and it was simply wonderful! I hope this chapter will be worth your fantastic reviews:) Oh, and this chapter _does_ merit that M rating…consider yourselves warned! I still don't own Camelot, otherwise Clive Standen would be suing me for overuse of nude scenes;) Read and Review!

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><p>Chapter 5<p>

Wake up. Remove straw from hair and clothing. Avoid Awen. Grab food from kitchens. Eat alone. Train until lunch. Avoid Awen. Grab food from kitchens. Eat alone. Train until dinner. Dine alone. Avoid Awen. Wash in forest lake. Return to stables. Clean blades. Go to sleep. Without Awen. Wake up. Remove straw from hair and clothing…

It had been like this for days. Days had turned into a week. It was a full ten days before he was finally confronted with Awen again, and what a monotonous ten days it had been. He had lost count over how many times he had considered just going back to his rooms and getting a decent night's rest, regardless of whether or not Awen tried to kill him, but every time he got even close to the staircases, he was reminded of his first (and last) conversation with her and immediately lost his nerve.

He was a soldier, not a blethering bar maid. He had no idea what would set the wench off, and had no idea how to calm her afterwords. So here was was…tail tucked firmly between his fucking legs, hiding from his spouse of ten whole days…in a horse stall…knee deep in manure.

.

Awen was pissed. Not just upset or angry, but full out pissed. After the blonde Gwen had talked at her, Awen had set about plotting her husband's death. Not just a measly knife to the jugular while he slept, no, she had planned an elaborate staging that would be fitting of the only man to kick Awen's legs out from under her. So imagine her dismay, when Gawain didn't come back the next night, or the next, or then next. It took her ten whole sunrises to find him. Gwen had offered to take her to him, but Awen was a hawk and would not take the directions from a fawn, no matter if they came to fruitation.

So when Awen found Gawain in the kitchens, she followed him back to the horse houses and waited; waited for him to be foolish enough to give her his back, but the moment never came. In fact, he must have been deeply entranced by the dappled mare, because he had jumped in her stall about a half hour ago and had yet to resurface.

Awen could be commended for many things, but patience was not one of them. And her patience had officially worn out. Awen lept down from the wooden beam she had been perched on and let her (gawain's) sword hit the ground with a sharp metallic slap and let it drag across the barn floor. A bit dramatic? Perhaps, but he had postponed his death long enough, and Awen had had enough. She slinked slowly over to the mares stall and brought her new sword down in the dirt next to her, leaning against the stall frame and glaring at the dark form of Gawain in the corner of the stall, facing her. She smirked. She couldn't help it. He was about to die, and he looked so nonchalant that it was funny.

"Can I help you with something?" Gawain said around a mouthful of venison.

Awen growled in response and the mare nickered at her. Awen was about to growl at the mare, until she glanced at her and realized the huge gash running up her blaze into her forelock. Awen took a small step back in alarm, but quickly regained her composure after she heard Gawain chuckle. She growled at him again, but it quickly lost heat when she looked back at the horse.

Awen rolled her shoulders and ran her tongue over her teeth. She looked at the mare, avoiding the dark eyes watching her intently from the corner. Awen glanced at Gawain using her peripheral, but knew he saw her anyway, and motioned to the mare with a half-hearted gesture, belaying her underlying fear for the animal. She had seen horses (warhorses) put down for less. Horses were innocents that were only injured from their master's stupidity.

Gawain grinned. When she had first made her presence known, he had felt the air around her sizzle with unspent rage. He knew the feeling. It was terribly difficult to mask and based on her fighting skills, she used her emotions for everything and had no use of hiding them. Now, however, she seemed torn; torn between leaping the stall door and strangling him and leaping the stall door to comfort the mare whose face was practically torn in to.

"Oldwolfe and his wildings. Nice handiwork, isn't it?" Gawain said, gesturing to the mare whom had moved to stand closer to Awen, muzzle tight and smelling the air around Awen

_Handiwork?_ Awen didn't know the term, but she definitely knew the name Oldwolfe. Her hands twitched and clenched in anticipation of giving that beast of a man the killing blow.

A muzzle nudged the side of her face and Awen couldn't help the awkward half smile that twisted her lips. This mare had been through hell at the hands of her mother's murderer. There was a strength in that feat that made Awen want to wrap her arms around the mare and nurse her back to heath herself.

Awen glanced back at a slightly dumb-founded looking Gawain and sighed. He had chosen his fortress wisely. She wouldn't bring harm to him here and risk upsetting the mare nuzzling her neck. Defeated, again, Awen gripped the hilt of her sword and tugged it from the earth, jarring the mare slightly. Awen shushed her and turned, giving Gawain a hard once over before leaving him crouched in the Oldwolfe's survivor's stall.

.

He knew it was a mistake the moment he left the stall. He could feel it in the marrow of his bones, but he did it anyway.

He wasn't sure why, and he knew he would ponder at his lunacy later when he was rapping his head against wall sharply, but for the moment, there was no thought beyond the cool fog of Camelot and the image of Awen's smile when the mare nudged her.

It was a futile mission to follow her, because there was absolutely no way he would be able to get way with it for long. He may be a bit more skilled than her when it came to fighting, but he'd bet good money on her tracking skills being top notch.

_Then again, it did take her ten days to find you in the stables._

Gawain grimaced, but took no further notice of the thought. Awen was heading towards the pool that Gawain usually took to bathing in, but he didn't expect that bathing was on her itinerary for the evening. She was winding through the trees, muttering to herself, taking her sweet time wherever it was she was going. Gawain had never been one to enjoy his own company and didn't play the patience game very well.

Awen slowed by the small lake on the outskirts of the castle, hidden particularly well by a copse of heavy trees. Gawain had been proud of himself for coming across it one day after one of the trainees loosed an arrow well into the underbrush and Gawain went in search of it to keep himself from strangling the trainee. He still wasn't sure if the source of his pride was from his discovery of a secluded bathing area or his show of restraint by not killing the trainee.

Awen paused just where the water lapped at rock and looked around her suspiciously.

He had been caught. He knew it. He might as well come out of the underbrush and face her, the way he should've done the morning after their marriage. The way he should've done a million times, but hadn't. The moment he decided to rise, Awen swung back around and started pulling off her leathers with gusto.

Gawain was dumb-struck. What the devil was she doing? Hadn't she just seen him? Why was she peeling those wonderful skin tight leathers down her legs like some mythical nymph? Maybe that was part of her plan all along; to catch him off guard with her appeal and then strike him unawares. Gawain hated to admit it, but it would've worked, because he couldn't get his brain to function on any higher level than to simply watch in awe as she swiftly bared more and more of her skin to him.

It was wrong to be watching her. Something in the back of his mind kept nagging at him to turn away, reminding him of her age and inexperience, but that other horrible little voice made it's opinions known and Gawain was helpless to do anything but listen.

_She's ours. There's nothing immoral about watching your wife._

And god damn she was quite the sight to watch. He didn't think he had really thought about her in such a fashion since they had met; well he had, but not enough to actually bring those random images to action, but he wouldn't be able to stop it now. He was going to think about her tonight. There was no avoiding it. And he was going to think about her just like this. With her leathers discarded on the forest floor, scabbard lying across her clothes for the easiest reach, sword embedded in the pebbles near the edge of the water, hair pulled into a loose braid at her back, and under leathers leaving little to nothing for his imagination. He could almost make out the outline of her nipple through the clinging thin leather that remained securely on her chest. His cock gave a hard twitch and Gawain resisted the urge to close a hand around himself and release right here on the forest floor. He was ambivalent to the fact that her remaining attire would shield her from any passer-bys, but so wanted her to strip down to her skin and give him a visual to burn into his mind when he thought of her later, hand to cock.

The sound of splashing water pulled Gawain back to the moment and the nagging voice in the back of his mind finally pushed to the forefront of his thoughts, making him feel utterly disgusted with himself for watching her so long…and for the hard on he was now sporting. He quietly made his way out of the wooded glen and back towards the stables and the beasts he shared it with.

.

Kay was pleasantly surprised by how well the Picts were assimilating into Camelot life. Majority of the men were able to help forge weapons and clear rooms and make more shelters for the ever increasing numbers of Camelot, and the women (though few and far between) were able to sew reasonably well and made the best saddles he had ever seen. But still Kay couldn't help but feel that there was something more to the Picts that had yet to present itself. And if he had to bet, he'd put his money on those few male Picts who kept to themselves and remained in their blue paint while the rest had cleaned theirs off the day after the wedding. He only knew one of them as the man whose nose was broken by Awen during the reception. Kay decided that tonight would be the night he made mention of it to Gulcan.

Kay and Gulcan had taken to playing strategy games every night, as Kay's previous language lessons with Gawain had been put on hold. Kay found that Gulcan was wonderful company and knew quite a lot about both Pict and English culture. One day Kay would work up the courage to ask him how he knew so much about both, but for now he would settle for their idle conversation.

Kay entered the great hall to find Gulcan already setting up the game board and Brastias sitting on the bench next to him polishing his sword, murmuring about whatever it is Brastias could convince Gulcan was important enough to talk about. Kay took his usual seat opposite Gulcan and they exchanged pleasantries. About ten minutes into the game, Kay was winning by a mere point and the conversation had lapsed as Kay waited for Gulcan to make his move. Now or never Kay thought.

"Gulcan, what do you know of those men in the corner over there?"

Gulcan glanced over his shoulder to the men in question and turned back grimacing. "Those are the spoiled children of men high up in Hardte's ranks. Hardte just barely tolerates their existence." Gulcan looked about him to make sure no one else was listening before he motioned both Kay and Brastias closer to him, "And to be perfectly honest, I'm surprised that Sebast is still alive after he tried to make a pass at Awen last year."

"I'm guessing that Sebast is the one who's recently dislocated nose is complimentary of Awen?" Brastias said with a wry smile.

"Correct. I still don't understand what possessed him to make a move on Awen. Hardte has kept her so well protected from men, especially…." Gulcan trailed off, suddenly very intent on the board in front of him.

"I'm sorry, Gulcan? Didn't quite catch that last part." Kay said with a chuckle. Gulcan had made it abundantly clear what he thought about Hardte (and Hardte's advisors) choice to use his daughter as a bargaining chip.

Gulcan gave a sheepish grin and made his move on the gameboard, effectively putting himself in the lead. "Never the less, Sebast may have a head full of wool, but I think your worries are justified, Kay. If anything were to happen involving us Picts, they would be at the center of it."

Kay smiled. Sometimes Gulcan surmised way too much from a simple question….and sometimes he fucked Kay over on the game board just like he had tonight. With a heavy sigh, Kay surrendered. Gulcan and Brastias both chuckled until the side door to the main hall opened to reveal a soaking wet Awen dragging what looked suspiciously similar to Gawain's Arabic blade.

Gulcan growled something to her in Pict, to which she looked at him bewildered, then smirked and said something in return before she shot Sebast a look that clearly said go-to-hell-or-I'll-help-you-there. Gulcan chuckled under his breath as Sebast growled at Awens retreating figure.

Kay and Brastias both stared at him like he'd grown a third head.

"I made the remark that she should bathe in her room or wait until entirely dry before re-entering the Castle filled with men and she said that she felt dirty." Gulcan smirked, "We're lucky though, she usually doesn't replace her leather before coming back to camp. Mind-less tease that girl. Has absolutely no concept of the appetites of men…" Gulcan swallowed nervously before continuing.

"I meant to ask you, and now seems as well a time as ever. What fashion of man is this Gawain? I realize he's a fair warrior, Because Brastias won't shut up about it and I've heard enough banter from the trainees to second that…but, he wouldn't.. he doesn't …" Gulcan let out a heavy breath and scrubbed a hand down his face.

Brastias gave an eureka noise and a chuckle, clapping Gulcan on the back.

"He's asking if Gawain would complete his husbandly 'duties' absent permission from his lovely bride." Brastias half-laughed and went back to polishing his blade.

Kay wanted to laugh at how ridiculous the question was, considering Gawain's view on rape and rapists, but Gulcan didn't know that and his concern was legitimate.

"You have nothing to worry about, Gulcan. Gawain has a very special selection of weaponry reserved for rapists." Kay said.

"Yea, his mum was raped and he becomes very grumpy whenever the subject comes up…well, more grumpy than usual I should say." Brastias said, exchanging his sword for a mug of ale and pointedly avoiding Kay's you've-said-too-much-look, "the only thing you have to worry about is that he might snap one day and take her head."

Kay could've strangled Brastias, but for whatever reason, his blunt reply seemed to sate Gulcan who gave a wry smile and stood to leave.

"Thank you. It shouldn't help knowing that…but it does. G'night." Gulcan gave them each a nod and left.

As soon as Gulcan was out of eye sight, Kay punched Brastias on the arm, hard.

"Hey! What was that for? You heard him! He was glad to know!"

"Yea, but it wasn't your story to tell!"

Brastias shrugged and gave a smile before hoping off the bench. Kay smiled at Brastias' odd sense of comfort and left the table himself. They had finished early tonight, perhaps he would find out if Gawain was in a reasonable temperament for reading practice…

.

"You will never speak of what you just witnessed. Do you understand me?" Gawain practically spat at Kay, who he had hauled a foot off the ground and pinned to the barn wall.

Kay nodded quickly and felt the pressure on his jacket loosen and his feet touch the uneven dirt of the stable floor. He let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding and watched Gawain turn away from him and right himself and his attire.

What an odd night it had turned out to be. In some cosmic way, Kay figured this must be karma's work in action for telling (or letting Brastias tell) of Gawain's mothers rape, but he found the punishment odd and unfitting of the crime, or perhaps it was the perfect punishment and that's what was so odd about it.

Kay had strolled down the pathway towards the stables leisurely, seeking out Gawain as more of a courtesy than actually wanting to be in his company. Gawain hadn't been great company to begin with and his manner had only spoiled further after is marriage. Kay still couldn't believe that Arthur would put anyone (much less his most skilled warrior) through such a thing for the good of his country, but also relieved that it hadn't been him married to Awen. Granted, she was pretty, but putting up with Arthur for well over twenty years had earned him the right to decide which pretty girl he would marry…and when. So, in lieu of his brother's random act of cruelty, Kay had brought along a flask of wine for Gawain. It seemed like a grand idea when he left the castle, but now he found it was cumbersome and had half a mind to just throw it of the cliffs and let Posideon have his way with it.

Kay found that all torches had been extinguished in the stables, but ever-sure-of-himself-Gawain had left the stable doors half open to let the fog infiltrate the barn and make everything sopping wet come morning. Kay made his way quietly through the doors and walked about three feet before he noticed the odd looking drag lines on the floor. Like someone had run a blade hap-hazardly through the dirt. Kay heard a deep masculine groan three stalls down and without another thought, ran to the stall yelling Gawains name, hoping that his friend wasn't seriously injured.

What he found was a severely startled looking Gawain sprawled out on the straw floor, neck red, panting, sweating, and fist squeezing tight around his very erect penis.

If Kay hadn't been so started himself, he would've thought to run as far away from the stables as he could, or at the very least turn around. He knew he had just interrupted a very important time of a man's schedule and would probably be livid if the roles were reversed, but Kay couldn't seem to make his brain function. What he did do, was drop the flask of wine, making a perfect device for Gawain to make him trip over when he lunged at Kay.

"I know you probably wish I'd just leave, but I mean…we all do it. You're a soldier, so you should know better than anyone what lonely men do…not that you're lonely…" Kay figured he had butchered this entire evening. There were some things in a man's life that you just didn't interrupt and he just had. He should just cut his losses and leave, but something about Gawain's silence made him keep talking even though he knew he should stop.

Gawain let out a bitter laugh and turned to face Kay again. Kay had never fancied himself afraid of Gawain. Not even when he held a knife to his brother's throat in training, he hadn't feared him, but right now, in this moment with the shadows of the stable casting his face in eerie darkness, Kay feared Gawain.

"Yes, Kay. I am lonely, and thanks very much to your brother, I am likely to remain that way forever, so if you'd be so kind as to leave me to my loneness…" Gawain gestured to the barn door and Kay all but ran for the exit.

As soon as Kay was out of sight, Gawain turned his head towards the heavens and closed his eyes. Whatever deity controlled his universe must truly hate him, he thought as turned and walked out of the stables towards the ocean, still hard cock rubbing against his trews with every step and irritating the living daylights out of him that it wouldn't just go away.

It was all Awen's fault.

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><p>Whew! otay, this is a little shorter than I wanted and didn't get everything accomplished that I had hoped to, but the next chapter will:) Read and Review pleases!<p> 


	6. Learning curve

OMGOSHNESS! This took forever to write! Stoopid school starting! It ruins everything :( Anyway, I hope this chapter makes up for it, being quite a bit longer than my recent chapters. Also, I think the last chapter progressed a bit quickly for my taste, so I let this one slow a bit as far as Gawain's new obsession…if you don't like the new pace, lemme know:) your input is always appreciated!

Disclaimer as always. Me. No. Own.

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><p>Chapter 6<p>

"How on earth do you manage to get your hair in so many tangles?" Guinevere asked for a about the hundredth time that evening, desperately trying to pull her comb through the knotted mass of Awen's hair.

Awen didn't know why Gwen insisted on brushing her hair every night. It had started the night after her wedding night when Gwen and her friend, Bri-jet (Awen still didn't know if that was right, the girl talked so little in comparison to Gwen), had come to her rooms babbling about some nonsense they deemed important and had ended with Bri-jet asleep atop Gawain's bed and Gwen trying to brush out Awen's tangles while continuing to talk…at length…about nothing in particular. Awen didn't know how she was able to continue to talk at such great length without exhausting herself. For the first couple of nights, Awen had amused herself with counting how many times Gwen had to pause long enough to draw breath, but that task had quickly lost it's appeal. Awen now found herself actually listening to what Gwen said and repeating words she didn't know aloud; a sort of language game. Whether she knew it or not, Gwen was a very good language teacher with her quick, concise definitions of the words Awen repeated, before continuing with her stories. Some were stories of Guinevere's time before Camelot, some were stories of Gawain (Gwen's attempt to paint him as a hero in Awen's eyes, she suspected), but mostly they were stories about the beginnings of Camelot.

Awen didn't care much for the stories of Gwen's youth and to be honest, she didn't think Bri-jet did either, and the embellished stories of Gawain did nothing but fuel her anger, but she did enjoy the stories of early Camelot. She liked hearing of the widow-queen, Igraine, and the Magic man, Merlin. Her tribe didn't care for people of magic, but Awen had always been fascinated by those who played with the godly powers and Gwen made Merlin sound like a god among men. She also told stories of the woman, Morgan, who coveted Arthur's throne. Gwen seemed to take pride in the fact that this horrible woman was now pregnant with some man's bastard. Awen didn't understand her excitement, but it made for a more interesting story, so Awen didn't question it.

"Next time we get a decent tanner in Camelot, we'll get you some soaps and then you'll have to keep your hair clean." Gwen continued.

"Soap?" Awen questioned in her usual one word queries.

"Oh, yes. It's a scented cleanser. We haven't had a good soap maker in the tannery since I've lived here. Bridge and I tried it once, but…well, we've been without for quite some time. I'll have used my last bar by the end of this week…" Gwen trailed off as though she was just now realizing this apparently devastating fact.

Awen still didn't understand. If you cleaned in the lake, you were clean. There was nothing more to it. Water could clean off war paint, dirt, blood; why was anything else necessary?

Gwen seemed to notice her confusion and started pulling her hair out of it's plait at the base of her neck.

"Here, smell my hair. It has my mother's old lavender soap in it." Gwen said, pushing her hair forward and towards Awen's slightly stunned face. Awen hesitantly leaned towards Gwen's hair and sniffed.

Awen didn't know what this soap was, but it made Gwen's hair smell like the heather fields of Awen's own home to the North, that bloomed with lavender in the summer. Before she could stop herself, Awen had grabbed fistfuls of Gwens hair, yanking her forward and taking deep, greedy breaths of the smell of her homeland.

Gwen made a very undignified squawking noise at being moved so suddenly and her odd noise woke Bridget out of a dead sleep from her usual place on the furs of Gawain's bed with a snort of her own.

This was the scene Gawain walked in on when he finally decided that it was utter nonsense to keep avoiding his wife (and had nothing to do with catching her bathing mere hours earlier) and decided to get a decent amount of sleep in his own rooms.

A squawking Guinevere, a snorting, half-awake Bridget, and Awen holding fistfuls of Gwen's hair to her face with a look of what could only be described as bliss. To say he was stunned was a gross understatement.

"Gawain?" Bridget said in a sleep heavy voice, jarring both Awen and Gwen from their odd position on the floor. Awen immediately dropped Gwen's hair and jumped back, pulling her scabbard from her boot.

Gawain couldn't decide if he wanted to shake her until her teeth rattled or just push her against the closest vertical surface and kiss her senseless. He knew neither would be acceptable in front of Gwen and Bridget, so he settled on just grimacing.

Bridget wanted to smile at Gawain's obvious discomfort in this situation, but didn't know him well enough to know if he would take it politely. Gwen's cheeks were bright red in embarrassment, so instead of making the entire situation as awkward as humanly possible, Bridget decided to politely excuse Gwen and herself. If she had learned anything from sitting with Gwen and Awen these past days, she knew that Awen could most definitely hold her own against Gawain tonight.

.

Awen had no idea what to do. She had planned this for weeks, but now, in the perfect moment, she had no idea what on earth she was doing. Gawain was sleeping no more than ten paces from her. Sleeping! Completely unconscious! Her perfcet opportunity to wipe him from her life forever and she couldn't even figure out how to start.

This was not how she had imagined it. She had wanted to face him, sword to sword, and defeat him at his own game. She didn't want to kill him while he slept…it seemed too….too…underhanded? Cowards attacked their enemies while they slept. Sebast would attack an enemy while he slept. Awen was not Sebast, but she could not, _would_ not, waste an opportunity like this. She may never get another chance.

Steeling her nerves, she moved silent as the night to the side of his bed. A bed she had not slept in for ten days for the simple reason that it belonged to him and must therefore be contaminated by his evil. She didn't feel the same sense of his belonging towards his weapons (especially the ones she had commandeered), but his bed was very much his property and she could not bring herself to even touch the furs atop it, which had meant cold stone floors for ten days.

Couching at the side of his bed, she scooted closer towards where his head and shoulders slipped out beneath the mountain of furs he buried himself in just to make sure he truly was asleep and it was not some jest he was playing her at.

He looked strangely peaceful when he slept. His brows weren't pulled together in his constant grimace, his hair was disheveled and caught on the scruff covering most of his face, and the unyielding line of his jaw softened, making him look almost boyish. Awen had the strangest compulsion to run her fingertip over the stubble covered line of his jawbone, but quickly subdued the urge when he stirred and mumbled something in his slumber, quickly falling back into silence.

Awen flinched, then immediately shook all other thoughts from her head. She was going to do this. She raised her scabbard to his throat and held it there, poised, ready for the fresh coat of blood upon its steel.

It didn't matter that he hadn't really done anything to her and that he was asleep with no way to defend himself. He had left her the opportunity and she would take it.

Awen's hand started to shake.

It didn't matter that he hadn't really done anything to her except laid her flat during sword play in front of her people.

Awen's flesh started in a cold sweat.

It didn't matter that he hadn't really done anything to her except marry her against both their wills and then let her be as she had hoped he would.

A dry sob caught in Awen's throat.

It didn't matter that he hadn't really done anything to her at all….

But suddenly it did matter. It mattered more than anything. Awen would not take the life of a man who had no way of defending himself. She would not take the life of a man who was as caught by this situation as she was. She would not kill a man who deserved an honorable death on the battle field.

She could not kill a man who had done nothing, in her eyes, to deserve death.

Awen felt the sob leave her before she could stop it and she fled from his bedside as fast as her feet would carry her, hoping that she could make it a safe distance before he awoke and suspected her.

When safely seated at the wall opposite his bed, Awen turned back towards the massive mound of furs, clutching her scabbard to her chest, to find that her outburst had not awoken Gawain.

Awen let herself crumple to the floor in a heap and bit onto the back of her hand to keep any sounds from escaping as she cried. After a while, she knew she was no longer crying for her half hearted attempt to kill an innocent man; an innocent man that she was married to. Now, she was crying for herself; something she scarcely ever allowed herself to do, but right now, it was the only thing she could do. There was no stopping the tears now, and strangely, Awen didn't want to.

.

Gawain sat at the edge of his bed and watched the subtle rise and fall of her shoulders while she slept. It made him feel like the worst sort of pervert, but there was something very calming about watching her sleep. Her cheeks were tear-stained and her small dueling blade was still clenched between her slim fingers, but he was still alive…and that alone told him more about her than her appearance ever could.

It had been a test in his eyes. He had given her the opportunity she so desperately wanted, but had given it the air of cowardice he was almost certain she wouldn't take. True to his assumptions, Awen had let the opportunity slide; but not without a fair deal of crying.

It was miserable.

Gawain had never liked the sound of women crying. There was something so awful as the sound of their breath catching in their throats right before that first tear falls. Or the horrible look they give when their cheeks are soaked and their lips quivering that makes you completely helpless. But Awen's crying was worse than any crying fit he had ever witnessed from his mother or other women.

It was practically silent; just muffled noises and the knowledge that she was shedding tears, but really didn't want to be. And all the while, Gawain had to pretend he was asleep instead of lying there listening to her cry for almost an hour, doing absolutely nothing to try to calm her.

It had been bloody torture. He had kept running through scenarios in his head about how he could just get out of bed, feigning a latrine break and then try to comfort her, or just go to her and kiss her into silence, making her forget her many troubles. That one had almost gotten him to throw the furs aside and get up, until reality hit (which it inevitably did) and he remembered that she had just considered killing him…seduction probably wouldn't do anything except get him punched and send him scurrying back to the stables for a few days.

So he had laid there. Listening. And utterly hating himself for it.

But now he had no idea what to do with her. She was obviously conflicted about killing him…which was good for him, because he knew soldiers well enough to know that if you can't kill someone when they're defenseless, you won't be able to kill them when they're armed either…well, unless it prevents you from dying, but that would never apply to her as far as Gawain was concerned. So he figured he was safe from her death threats for the time being, but what did they do now? He knew little to nothing about her. In fact, he didn't even know if her English was good enough to ask her questions. He supposed he could ask Gwen. She seemed to be somewhat close with Awen.

Gawain grimaced and pulled his hands through his hair. There was no way he was going to give Guinevere the satisfaction of knowing his interest in Awen, especially since he still hadn't apologized for practically calling her a whore. Maybe Bridget would tell him then. The little redhead was much less cumbersome than Gwen and didn't require any apologies pre-conversation.

Gawain was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of metal scraping stone. He looked over to find Awen shivering, almost violently, and the scabbard she clutched to her smacking the floor with every sharp convulsion. He surprised she could sleep through the noise of it along with her obvious coldness.

Gawain pulled one of the furs from behind him and cautiously walked it over to Awen. Her skin was practically blue under the faint gleam of the morning sun. A wave of guilt washed over Gawain for letting her sleep on the cold stone floor. He considered moving her to the bed, but didn't want to risk waking her. He placed the fur he had brought over her blue-tinged skin as carefully as he could manage, then went back to his bed and stripped all the linens from it, carefully placing each one over Awen in turn.

Gawain stepped back from his handiwork and smirked at the mess he made. She may look like she was sleeping in a mound of dirty laundry, but it would keep her warm until the chill of the morning cleared. Gawain shivered, himself, and went about putting his overcoat and sheaths back on.

It would appear that winter was upon them.

Gawain smirked again. Seemed like a good a time as any to make the trainees go for a morning run…or take a very educational walk…

.

Awen woke to a knock at the door.

Awen groaned and turned away from the noise, burrowing deeper into the warmth around her.

Wait…warmth? Awen's eyes shot open and she bolted upright. The cool air bit at her skin immediately, but Awen dared not touch the furs and blankets atop her to keep herself warm for a minute longer. She scurried from the warm mass of sheets and sat, staring at them for a few moments before the knock sounded again.

"Wait!" Awen yelled at the door, frustrated with whoever it was for intruding on her thoughts. How on earth had she gotten the furs? Had she stolen them subconsciously? Awen looked to the bed, suddenly remembering who had slept in it last night, but Gawain had left…hours ago, by the look of it. The sun was half-way through the sky!

Awen scrambled to her feet, pushing farther away from the furs, trying to catch her bearings. She had slept half the day? She never slept for more than a few hours! What was happening to her? First she couldn't kill her husband, then she falls asleep crying, and now she sleeps through the day like some brood mare? What was happening to the world? And how on earth had those Furs gotten there?

"Awen? It's Gwen. We missed you at breakfast so I just wanted to make sure you're okay…"

Gwen's voice sounded wary, like she half expected Awen to be dead her room; killed by the great warrior, Gawain. Awen half-smiled. If only she knew how wrong she was.

Awen left the pile of furs, forgotten on the floor and moved to go open the door for Guinevere.

"No hungry." Awen said to Gwen's shocked face when she pulled the heavy door open.

"Oh…" Gwen said, pushing past Awen and into her room. Awen didn't know what she was looking for, but Gwen seemed to be searching for something within the room. Gwen glanced at the pile of furs on the floor and looked back at Awen with a quizzical expression. Awen didn't understand, so she just shrugged.

Gwen seemed satisfied with her inspection and turned back to Awen.

"Well you missed the morning meal, would you like to join me for lunch?" Gwen said with a smile.

Awen nodded and looked around for her scabbard. There was no way she was going to into the kitchens without it.

"It's in the furs." Gwen said, trying to hide her grin behind her hand. She may not know what happened in this room last night, but she'd bet it was quite the story based on the general disarray of the blankets on the floor with Awen's dagger betwixt them. But based on Awen's usual nonchalance and the fact that the room didn't reek of sex, it was safe to assume that Gawain (true to his word) hadn't assaulted Awen.

"Bridge?" Awen queried when she had returned her blade to her boot.

"She had other plans today." Gwen said as she and Awen left Gawain's room and headed down towards the kitchen.

.

"Does she ever talk? Or is that task Guinevere's?" Gawain asked Bridget as they circled the Castle's upper parapet for the hundredth time that morning. Bridget was a surprisingly decent source of information on Awen and if Kay's judgement was to be trusted, she could be the soul of discretion when she wished; Gawain only hoped she would realize how important it was the Gwen not know of their conversation. He had already learned that she let Gwen and Bridget into his room every night (though tentatively at first) and that Gwen brushed her hair while she told Awen stories about anything and everything. He also learned that she coveted his blades and often cleaned them while Gwen talked. He still didn't know if she spoke English though…

"Well, she does and she doesn't." Bridget answered evaisively. Gawain briefly considered strangling her. She had been giving these odd half answers all morning! Why couldn't she just answer a question directly?

"What does that mean?" Gawain said through clenched teeth. Bridget smiled. He was so alike Awen, it was almost uncanning. They both became infuriated by imprecise language, but thought they were doing a wonderful job of controlling their tempers by controlling the volume of their voice…not the venom they sent through it.

"It means that she doesn't really speak at length, but she does repeat some of Gwen's terms and makes comments if she has a particular view on what Gwen is chatting about. For example," Bridget continued when she noticed Gawains raising frustration, "She said that Guinevere knew nothing of war strategies when Gwen was telling a story about one of her father's failed siege attempts."

Gawain remained silent for a moment and they walked on in silence.

"So…she does speak English?" Gawain asked caustiously.

"Yes. I mean, not fluently, but she understands majority of what it is said. What made you think she didn't?" Bridget asked.

Gawain shook his head, obviously not willing to disclose his thoughts. Gawain stopped suddenly and turned to her.

"You won't tell anyone that I asked you any of this, will you?"

Bridget was thrown slightly off guard, but shook her head.

Gawin nodded his assent and turned back.

"Good. I'll walk you to the kitchens then."

" There's no need, Gawain. I'm sure you have other responsibilities and I can make it back myself." Bridget said with a smile and what she hoped was a reassuring squeeze of his bicep. Gawain seemed torn for a moment, but he nodded and turned back towards the training arena.

Bridget smiled at his retreating form. If anyone had told her this morning that she would spend the first hours of daylight walking and talking with one of Camelot's most fearsome warriors about the finer nuances of his _wife_…she would have laughed and checked them for fever. She was glad though. It was a pleasant surprise to find that Gawain actually wished to learn about the woman who would have to share her life with him. Not many men in Gawain's position would've taken the time to ask. Then again, most men who did wish to know probably wouldn't ask about their wives from a secondary source, either. Perhaps Gawain could cozy up to Awen with some lavender soaps. Bridget chuckled to herself at the story Gwen had told her of Awen's reaction to Gwen's scented hair. Bridget suddenly stopped and spun around.

She remembered that she hadn't told Gawain about Awen's enthusiastic reaction to Gwen's soap, but he had already reached the stairs. Oh well, maybe next time.

.

"Are you certain?" Arthur asked Ulfius for the fifth time since he had returned from scouting, nearly a half hour ago.

"Completely certain. Nearly two hundred of them, heading south-east, down past Camelot. They burned a northern village almost two days ride from here. I figure they're trying to skirt us and then run up from the south."

Athur felt like tearing his hair out. It had barely been two weeks since the Picts had come to Camelot, and already he was forced to deal with the wildings. Burning villages? Was Oldwolfe insane? He already knew the answer to that, but still, the idea of burning down the land you hoped to rule through battle was just ridiculous! What kind of strategy was that? So much for Oldwolfe being the acclaimed military strategist.

"There's one more thing I heard along the roads on the way back, that seemed a little…alarming…" Ulfius continued.

Arthur opened his eyes and shot a look at Ulfius, never having realized he had closed them to begin with.

"A man from the burned-down village said that Oldwolfe's men were dressed in knights garb and hoisting the pendragon colors. He said that they searched every cart that came and went into the village for nearly a week, making sure that no one was trying to sneak in…or out. I don't know if it was useful, but I brought the man with me." Ulfius looked anywhere around the room except towards Arthur.

Arthur nodded absently and started pacing around the round table; a new habit.

"How did this man escape the village? I have to assume he was there at one point, to know all of this.." Kay piped up.

"Well that's why I thought he might be important. He found a way to sneak most of the village out through straw carts. He built a raised platform for the hay to rest on, and had people couched under the slats beneath, so that when the wildings pushed their swords through the hay, they didn't encounter the people it was concealing." Ulfius said with a twinge of pride, as though he had come up with the idea himself.

"That's brilliant." Kay said, rubbing his jaw and looking hard at the floor as though it had just presented a math problem from it's stone base that he could not easily solve.

"Has Oldwolfe been doing this in all the towns he's passed thorough? There must been a dozen towns between here and the wildings northern lands." Gawain finally said from the shadows.

"I don't know. I only went as far as the first town. I wanted to give word before Oldwolfe made it past Camelot. I nearly killed my horse running here, but I made a two day journey into one and a half."

"But you took my horse!" Brastias whined, through a bite of chicken.

Kay and Ulfius both sighed in exasperation. Gawain nearly chuckled. That was all he took from this conversation?

"Alright," Arthur said, finally pausing in his pacing, "We'll have to let Hardte and his men know. If the man you found was able to get out of the village using hay carts then that can be our ticket in. It'll be the last place Oldewolfe will expect us and if there is to be a battle, we should draw it as far away from Camelot as possible."

Gawain felt his stomach tighten and his skin prickle in anticipation. He needed this. He needed a good fight to draw his attention from other…distractions. Besides, fighting Oldwolfe's band of monkeys would be a welcome change to the sorry excuse for trainees in Camelot.

"Ulfius, can you take us to the next nearest village between Camelot and the village Oldwolfe burned?" Arthur asked.

"Yes, it'll be about a days ride. It's a trading village, but it'll take about a day and a half if we need to take carts enough to hide an army."

Arthur nodded again and looked at every one of his knights thoroughly before speaking. Every knight, save Gawain.

"Then gather all the straw you can from the stables and hitch every able horse you can. Ulfius, have that man show us how to make the carts he used, and everyone get to work on making them. If we want to catch Oldwolfe before he passes Camelot, we'll have to make up for lost time. We leave tonight." Arthur looked about at his knights, who stood immobile.

"Now." He prompted.

Suddenly there was a flurry of motion as the knights jumped to and started shouting orders.

"Wait a moment, Gawain." Arthur said as Gawain went to pass him. As soon as the hall was empty, Arthur spoke.

"I would like it if you would remain in the hall when I tell Hardte and his men."

Gawain growled and looked away, but nodded.

"Thank you…would you also go and collect him for me?" Arthur knew he was pushing Gawain, almost unnecessarily, but he doubted Gawain understood what it would mean if Camelot and the Picts went to war with Oldwolfe's wildings. Especially since he doubted Gawain's wife would simply remain idle in Camelot while they went to war and from the gossip that Guinevere brought back to his room, Gawain was becoming rather attached to her.

"I'm not your lapdog." Gawain growled as he pushed past Arthur.

"She'll be coming with us, Gawain!" Arthur all but shouted at Gawain's back, "I thought you would want the opportunity to tell her." Arthur said in a much calmer voice. He could hear Gawain breathing hard through his nose and noticed his hands were clenching.

Interesting. It would appear that Gwen's rumor mill had produced something useful.

Gawain turned back towards Arthur and though nothing in his expression had changed, Arthur could feel the change in his demeanor.

"I'll make you a deal then," Gawain said, suddenly smirking. Arthur nodded wearily.

"I don't sit in with your meeting with Hardte, I tell Awen about leaving and you don't get a pair of black eyes to match that wonderful purple patch on your jaw." Gawain sneered.

Arthur smirked and made an odd noise through his noise.

"Fair enough." Arthur said and watched Gawain bare his teeth in the Gawain equivalent of a smile before turning back towards the staircase and disappearing into the castle.

* * *

><p>Thank god! I finally finished it! Now, I realize a good portion of this seemed superfluous and historically incorrect (I did enough research to know), but I swear it'll make sense later on! All that soap business will make sense in time my young padawans…please remember to review! Reviews remind me to write instead of reading about accounting equations :)<p> 


	7. Defense Tactics

So a huge shout-out to flyingcrispi who gives the best feedback ever! Seriously, I'll be sending you some croissants baked with love, darling! Or at the very least, some wonderful smutty scenes in the near future ;) And to all my silent readers out there, I love that you take the time to read, but please take that extra second to review! It makes the biggest difference! I'm cereal about this!

Also, I don't own Camelot, so don't accuse me of such horrible offenses! Oh reader, I'd never!

Chapter 7

This was ridiculous. Who decided they would be traveling in hay carts? She'd like to introduce whoever it was to the wrong side of her sword.

Worse than that, the stupid boy to her right kept grinding his teeth and wringing his hands like some foolish little girl. He had introduced himself as Drustan.

Awen told him she didn't care.

Gawain was crouched to her left and although he was almost twice as large as the Drustan character sitting next to her, he hadn't said a word since they slid into the carts.

Actually, he hadn't said a word since mid-day, when he came into the kitchens and told Gwen to tell Awen that she could keep every weapon she had stolen from him if she met him in his room in an hour. Usually Awen wasn't prone to bribery (and she usually didn't respond to men who addressed her through a third party), but she had become rather attached to his A-rey-bee-an sword and would risk having to face him to keep it.

She had spent the next hour staring cleaning the sword, deciding whether or not it was worth it to actually show up when summoned. Her father had done that to her constantly and it just got worse every time. The last time her father had summoned her, it had been to tell her that she was marrying a British man…look where that had gotten her! From her perspective, there was no good to come from a man summoning a woman.

Sebast had summoned her once. He had said it was in regard to Gulcan's birthday celebrations that evening. Awen was not so stupid as to believe him, but her curiosity got the better of her and she went anyway. Sebast had pounced on her as soon as she had entered the clearing, sending her toppling to the ground beneath him, and tried to cut her leathers away. Awen had no idea what he was trying to accomplish, but Awen knew that no one was supposed to see your female parts except family by blood or bond, so she promptly headbutted him and kneed him so hard between the legs that her knee actually hurt from the impact.

Needless to say, Awen was not excited by the idea of yet another summons. But looking at the mean curve of the blade had changed her mind, and by the end of her hour timeframe, Awen was waiting in her/Gawain's room.

When he walked in a few moments after her, he looked truly surprised to see her there. Good! He should be shocked! Because it wasn't ever going to happen for him again!

Awen held the a-rey-bee-an sword closer to her and shifted under his gaze.

"Mine?" Awen meant it to be a statement, but it came out as a question.

Gawain smirked and nodded before moving farther into the room. Awen smiled and closed her fingers over the hilt of her new blade.

Gawain had stopped moving and stood near the edge of the bed. He looked…startled. Awen didn't understand so she shrugged and looked at the broadsword she had laid against the wall. She pointed to it.

"Mine?"

Gawain smiled; a full smile that bared his neat teeth and the same set of dimples that Gulcan had. He was almost handsome when he smiled. Awen shook the thought from her head before it could manifest.

"Yes. You can have it." Gawain said with a small laugh.

Awen nodded , still smiling, and looked at him expectantly.

Gawain sighed and leaned against the post of his bed.

"Why do you want to kill Oldwolfe so badly?"

Awen started at the question. It was supremely unexpected. She knew what the answer was, but she wasn't sure how to explain in the language he seemed to understand.

"He kill mother. No, no kill…he… he…" Awen knew there was a word for what Oldwolfe did to her mother, but didn't know its English equivalent. Killing was for animals, her mother was…

"Murdered." Gawain provided.

"Murdered." Awen repeated. Yes, that was the word. Oldwolfe murdered her mother.

Gawain nodded and looked at her, hard like she was a problem he couldn't quite solve.

"Camelot has taken arms against Oldwolfe and his wildings. We leave tonight for a trading village the wildings have taken control of. Your people have been informed and I'd bet my life on them riding out with us tonight…I thought I might convince you to stay, but I see now that won't be happening. So, pack lightly and be down in the courtyard by sunset."

Awen knew she probably looked like an idiot with her jaw dropped and her eyes wide, but she didn't care. She was going to get a chance at Oldwolfe? She couldn't even believe it! She dropped her new sword to the ground in excitement when she jumped up. The sound of metal clashing against stone made her look down and she quickly bent to retrieve it.

Gawain had trouble keeping a straight face while he watched Awen practically dance around his room, his (her) Arabian sword in hand. She suddenly turned to him, smile wide, and ran towards him. Gawain took a quick step backwards, before Awen (quick as she was) reached him. She had stopped barely a foot from him and she was still bouncing. She looked like she wanted to hug him, but didn't know how. Instead, she punched him in the chest. Once, twice, three times, then she made an odd giggling noise in the back of her throat and ran past him and down the hall towards the room Hardte was housed in.

Gawain rubbed at his chest and smiled. She was simply stunning and she had no idea.

He didn't know anyone who got as excited about the prospect of war as he did. Well, not until now.

.

They didn't look comfortable, but they didn't look uncomfortable either, Gulcan noted. They looked more like friends of friends who had been left alone together while their companions went off without them; connected in their disconnect.

Through his nightly games with Kay, Gulcan had learned much about Gawain and from the sound of things, Gawain actually sounded perfect for Awen. He was a soldier who knew little of the softer nuances of life; it was perhaps a wonder that they were not separated at didn't look it now, but he'd be willing to bet that if any man could make Awen happy…it would be this one.

God, this ride was hell on his buttocks! These cramped quarters were going to make fighting difficult when the time finally came and they all limped from the carts, stretching; but he did look forward to his second tour with Oldwolfe. Maybe this time…he'd take more than one of Wildman's fingers as a trophy. He's settle for his head.

It had been about thirty hours in this damn cart, with only three fifteen minute breaks and the stupid kid opposite him had been grinding his teeth and wringing his hands for the ENTIRE ride. He could tell that Awen was about two more hours away from strangling the boy. He didn't know Gawain on a personal level, but if the way he was clenching his hands was any indication, then he was about one hour away from killing Drustan.

Finally, the cart came to a stop again. Gulcan listened to the sounds outside the hay atop them. If this was just another break, then there would be a decent amount of yelling and thumping on the cart for them to disembark. If this was the real deal, he expected that there would be a different ritual.

Sure enough, there were heavily accented voices outside the carts and the straw above them dipped deeper into the slats above them as though someone had jumped atop them. Gulcan took a deep breath and held still as the wildings searched the cart around them. He noticed Gawain and Awen had gone painfully still and were both looking up, watching the light shift through the hay as it was moved from side to side above them. Drustan looked ready to vomit.

The wilding above them drove his sword down into the hay. It fell through the slats and missed Gulcan's right thigh by mere inches. How was this a good idea? In fact, it seemed painfully stupid now that they were in the midst of it.

The sword raised again and came down between Gawain's legs. Again, it missed him by mere inches, but Gawain's eyes were wide as saucers and it was easy to tell what he had been thinking when he saw that blade come down.

The blade went up and came down a third time, but instead of missing by inches, as it had the first two times, the blade came down through the skin of Awen's right arm.

Gulcan couldn't breathe. He sat and waited for what seemed like hours, though it could only be moments, for the scream to wrench its way past Awens lips. Before his brain could decipher the movement, Gawain had clapped a hand over her mouth and pulled her head to his chest, effectively smothering her faint panting and dislodging her arm from the edge of the blade. Drustan, though good for nothing on the trip so far, had the presence of mind to wipe Awen's blood from the blade with the arm of his shirt before the wilding jerked it free of the hay again.

Gulcan could feel the drops of sweat beading on his skin and running along the blue war paint. Awen pushed Gawain's hand off her mouth and bit down on the hard leather of his vambrace, falling further into his lap, letting her blood flow down her arm onto his trousers. Gawain looked well and truly lost, glancing around the cart as though trying to will some aid with his thoughts. He petted the back of her head, as though he were trying to soothe a runaway hound.

Awen's right arm was her sword arm…which meant that she could only use a bow when they finally entered the village. She wouldn't be able to defend herself if she fell into the fray. Gulcan needed to communicate this with Gawain, but the voices outside the cart indicated that while the soldiers had completed their search they were still talking with the man Arthur had assigned to drive their cart.

Gulcan stared hard at Gawain until he finally looked up from Awen and met his gaze. Gulcan looked pointedly at Awen's still bleeding arm and then to her sword which was lying on the cart floor next to the rest of their swords. Gawain seemed to understand, but made no gesture other than to pat Awen's head a little harder than necessary.

The cart started moving again and Gulcan lurched forward at the sudden movement. Drustan steadied him, but fell into Awen's arm in the process. She hissed through her teeth which were still attached to the leather on Gawain's forearm.

As they drew further and further into what Gulcan assumed was the village, the sound of clashing metal could be heard and cries of all natures filling the air about them. So it seemed the party had started without them. While that bode well for Gulcan, there was now no way to get Awen out of the battle before it raged fully.

She was going to have to fight with a bum arm if she hoped to survive this battle.

Before he could figure a plan, the bottom compartment of the cart was thrown open and Kay was standing there, covered in blood, shouting at them to move their asses if they wanted to kill some wildings.

.

She wasn't here. Gawain had been searching through the piles of corpses since the moment they had claimed victory, but he still couldn't find her! She had not been among the victorious, but he still hadn't found her among the dead yet either. He had asked Gulcan to help him as soon as he caught sight of the man. Kay, Brastias, and Ulfius had started looking without invitation and though he found it odd, Gawain was pleasantly surprised by their action. Hardte claimed to be searching for any of his own that had fallen, but Gawain knew he was searching for her as well.

The battle had been fierce and Gawain had a dry crust of blood still clinging to his skin, but the fight wasn't over until he found out what happened to her. Dead or alive, he had to know.

"Gawain!" Kay yelled from about twenty yards behind him, well away from the major battle site. Gawain all but sprinted to where Kay was kneeling and was quickly joined by Gulcan and Hardte. Gawain knealt next to Kay and looked at the bloodied mess that was his wife.

Her war braids were plastered to her skin in an odd combination of blood and paint and her lip was split and still oozing blood down the side of her face down into the earth. She was covered in an odd purple mixture of blood and paint, but that wasn't what caught his eye and rendered him immobile.

She had a long gash that ran up from her right buttock, up and around to just beneath her right breast.

She was looking at them and panting hard, but could neither move nor talk. She looked like a deer that had been shot but not killed and now watched as the hunter drew closer and closer, waiting for that final death blow.

Hardte reached around Gawain as though to pick her up, but his hand was stilled by Gulcan.

"We have to stitch this up before we move her or she'll bleed out." Kay said quietly.

Hardte stood and walked away. Gulcan looked at Awen, then at Gawain and Kay, before nodding and following after Hardte.

Kay pulled the stitching string from under his chestplate and handed it to Gawain.

Gawain had never been one for sewing, but Kay was right. If they didn't close the wound, she would bleed out before the day was through.

Before Kay could find his stitching needle, Hardte had returned with Gulcan close in tow, holding his sword which was orange tinged with the heat radiating off of it.

Before either Gawain or Kay could ask what he was doing, Hardte brought the flat side of his heated sword down on the wound that ran up Awen's right half.

Gawain tried to launch himself forward and remove Hardte's sword from her skin, but Gulcan had grabbed both Kay and Gawain by the back of the shirts and held fast as Awen screamed and squirmed into the blood-soaked dirt beneath her.

Hardte cauterized the entire wound before finally removing his blade from her scorched skin. Awen panted into the ground, but made no other move.

Gulcan released his grip on Gawain, but held on to Kay as he crouched and whispered something to him. Kay nodded and watched as Gawain slunk forward and crawled to Awen's unmoving form. Gawain's hand hovered over her wound, but made no move to actually touch her. Awen winced as Gawain moved to slide his hands underneath her and lifted her to his chest, carefully avoiding her right side. Gawain stood as carefully as he could manage without jostling her and turned back towards the village.

Hardte watched quietly as Gawain carried his daughter to the watering trough and set her on the pile of blood stained furs next to it. Awen hadn't moved; just stayed in the same position she had been sat in and stared listlessly into the woods. He hated doing that to her, but it was the quickest way to clean her wounds. Gulcan cleared his throat and Hardte glanced at him where he couched near the boy-king's brother. They were both staring at him with expressions that said you-care-about-her-whether-you-admit-to-it-or-not.

Hardte squared his shoulders and walked away from them and away from the well where Gawain was gathering water to wash away his daughters blood from her own body.

.

Awen hissed as Gawain ran the damp towel over her mottled burnt flesh, but didn't push him away. He didn't know if it was from exhaustion or that she realized that she would have to have the wound cleaned at some point, but he was glad she wasn't fighting him. He hated cleaning wounds. He hadn't had much practice in cleaning wounds other than his own, but after this experience, he was pretty sure he never wanted to do it again.

With his own wounds, he knew how much pressure his body could take when he was scrubing away the grime, but with Awen, he got the distinct feeling that if he pressed too firmly against her fleshly wounded flesh, she might shatter.

He got her wound most of the way clean, but the rest of her was still a mess. Gawain tried to gently pull her face towards him so that he could wipe the blood from her split lip, but she fought his grip and he ended up yanking her face towards his with very little finesse.

She glared at him as he raised the cloth to her face. He seemed to be concentrating very hard on not looking her in the eye. Instead he focused his gaze on her split lip.

It was hard to focus her attention on anything for more than a few seconds before the pain came back; radiating though her entire frame, making her skin feel like it was being prodded by a thousand needles simultaneously, but she was trying to focus on Gawain's face. It helped when the pain came rushing through again and again. He was being surprisingly gentle with her, not that Awen was complaining. If he had just pressed a little harder into the burnt flesh of her right side, she would've passed out. There was no doubt in her mind.

Gawain placed her head back on the furs and stepped back, letting the cloth fall into the bucket of reddish brown water he had been cleaning her with. Awen's eyes were starting to feel heavy and she knew in a few moments she would be unconscious. Gawain leaned over her and took her left hand in both of his. His hands were warm, and the weather was steadily dropping, so Awen didn't protest like she knew she should've. She watched as Gawain leaned down towards her hand and pressed his lips to it briefly. Awen was startled, but didn't have the energy to do anything about it. Her stomach tightened, but not in a painful way and she smiled at the feel of his short whiskers rasping against the sensitive skin of her hand. Before he had released her hand, Awen was asleep; the faint trace of a smile on her lips.

.

When Awen awoke, it was in the stone fortress of Camelot, in a room she was very well acquainted with; except, she seemed to be looking at the room from a whole new angle.

Awen cautiously stretched her limbs, checking to see if anything had been too badly injured to move yet, but only felt the residual pain from her cauterized wound. She slowly moved onto her elbows and immediately found the reason for her new found perspective.

She was in his bed.

Not just atop it, but in it. Beneath furs, but atop sheets. Awen tried to move her legs out from under the heavy furs, but found that her side would not allow for such sudden movements when it shot pain running down her right side like an arrow. Awen laid back down in defeat.

She looked out the small window to her left and found that it was just past sunset. How long had she been asleep? Her stomach growled, telling her that it was long enough that her stomach felt it had been neglected. She realized she was hungry, but didn't have the energy to try and move again.

The floor opened slowly and Gawain's head popped through the empty space. He seemed mildly surprised to find her staring back at him.

He came all the way into the room and Awen saw that he was holding a plate of food with him. Her stomach growled again and she felt her cheeks flood with heat from embarrassment.

Gawain chuckled and placed the plate of fruits and cheeses next to her on the bed. She cautiously moved herself into a sitting position, keeping the furs wrapped around her tightly. Gawain pulled a small wooden stool from the far side of the room and set it next to the bed. He then sat down and started eating from the plate, not saying a word to her.

He was an odd one, Awen thought as she pulled a stand of grapes from the plate and started eating. He was acting as though nothing had happened.

"You've been out for four days, "Gawain began around a bite of apple.

Awen eyes shot to his in upmost horror. Four days? She had slept through four days? That was ridiculous! It must've been these damn furs! They put people under a sleeping spell and there was no escaping it. Awen suddenly shrugged the furs off her shoulders and let them fall to her lap.

Awen hadn't realized that her war leathers had been stripped off, leaving her in only her under-fabrics, until that moment. Her eyes shot to Gawain, who had indeed been staring at her chest, but at least had the good humor to look sheepish about it. His cheeks had turned red and a flush was spreading up his neck as he looked anywhere around the room except at the half-naked girl in front of him.

Awen seized the furs and wrapped them firmly around her.

Gawain cleared his throat and asked how she was feeling.

Awen shrugged, but the motion sent a shock of pain running through her. She almost choked on the grape she had been eating.

Gawain leaned forward as though to slap her on the back to keep her from choking, but paused, reconsidering, and sat back down.

"Oldwolfe dead?" Awen asked, when she was able to fill her lungs with air again.

Gawain nodded, and picked up another apple.

Awen nodded. At least her four day reprieve and newest battle scars weren't entirely in vain. She was just pissed that she wasn't the one to sever his head from his neck.

"Your father was the one to claim his head. Arthur made some cackle about how Oldwolfe deserved a trial by his peers, but your father pretended he didn't understand Arthur's words and took his head before anyone could get close enough to interfere. Not that anyone was going to try anyway." Gawain was smiling by the time he finished speaking.

Awen smirked. It sounded like her father. She didn't understand why Arthur would want to keep Oldwolfe alive any longer than what was necessary, but he was a king and now that her father had surrendered their clans to him, she would never have to understand the decisions of a ruler.

The thought soured her mood completely and Awen tore her gaze from the smiling Gawain and looked about the room. It was much neater now than when she had been inhabiting it by herself. In fact, there wasn't even a pallet on the floor to prove Gawain had slept here at all…unless…

"Were you sleep?"Awen all but shouted at him. She hadn't meant for the question to escape her at such a volume and she clapped a hand over her own mouth in a front to try and take some of the volume out of the words that had already escaped her. In the process, the furs slipped from her shoulders and Awen had to drop her grapes to try and catch them before she showed her barely covered chest to Gawain…again.

Gawain reached forward and tugged the furs up and over her shoulders and held them there while she watched him wearily and readjusted herself and her food. Gawain moved to sit back down, letting his hands fall from the furs and purposefully trailing his thumb along the exposed flesh of her left collar bone.

Awen was too concerned by her food to notice him shiver, or perhaps she had granted him the small gesture. He didn't know. He didn't care.

"I've been sleeping on the floor." Gawain pointed towards the furs that were folded on his weapons chest near the fire pit.

Awen nodded and pulled the apple he had been holding from his hand while he stared at the crackle and sparks from the fire.

Gawain watched her as she bit into the apple, but made no move to stop her. She took that as a sign of acceptance and took another bite. Gawain swallowed hard and looked back at the fire for a few moments before speaking again.

"It seems that winter has come with a vengeance in the few days that you were out. There aren't enough furs left in the castle to bring in here. I'm going to have to move the fire pit closer to the bed tonight." He said while rubbing his jaw.

Awen didn't understand why that was such a thought consuming thing, but made no comment. Perhaps the cold was making him a bit slow. She didn't know why, but it seemed that all men made less sense when they were cold.

"If cold, have bed." Awen said around another bite of apple, looking at him expectantly.

"No. You keep the bed."

Awen shrugged. She didn't understand why he couldn't just take the bed if he was cold. She could deal with the harshness of winter, it certainly wasn't her first.

.

She didn't know what they did to this castle to make it so unbearably cold, but it certainly felt like her first winter ever! It was so cold! Her teeth chattered and her nose felt like it had frozen and fell completely off her face even under the mountain of furs atop her. She had no idea how Gawain could manage on the cold stone floor, but she was suddenly very glad that he had given her the bed. Her right side kept spasming from the shivers tearing at her fleshly healed skin. How had she slept through this cold before?

She heard a quick inhale and exhale of air and realized it must be Gawain.

"G-g-gaw-ain?" She managed out through clattering teeth.

"Awen?" Gawain spoke in a rush, like he could only form words that lasted as long as his breath.

"Always c-c-old?"

"No. Coldest. Ever. Since. I've. Been. Here." Gawain paused for breath between each word.

Awen couldn't stand it. She knew how to get warmer. Their tribe had done it countless times when winter hit particularly harsh and there weren't enough blankets to go around. She had only ever done it with Gulcan or her father when she was little, but she didn't see the harm in doing it now. Besides, she could keep her girl parts covered no matter how cold it got.

"G-g-awain?"

"Yes?"

"Come here."

Gawain wasn't sure he heard her correctly, what with his head smacking against the stone floor every time a particularly violent shiver took hold of him, but he knew what it sounded like, and that was more than enough for him. He hobbled to his feet, nearly collapsing twice from the cold and moved slowly over to where Awen lay on the bed.

She scooted to the side when he came closer and all but pulled him onto the mattress. If he weren't so cold, he would've thought this was some sort of fantasy brought to wonderful life, but fantasies were not so cruel as to make you practically shiver to death while having them. In fact, he was pretty sure he had had a dream like this once, except they were both naked, and on top of the furs, and not shivering the death, but same basic premise.

Awen pulled him under the barely warm furs atop her and spread the furs he had been using over the top of them. Pulling her arms back under the blankets, she started yanking Gawain's overshirts off of him.

"What are you doing?" Gawain said quickly, trying to decide what she was doing. So far this was actually turning out like something he could've dreamt about her and he found it unnerving considering the conditions, but he doubted she knew what it meant to strip a man, so she must've had something else in mind.

She hushed him and gestured for him to keep removing layers of clothing while he felt, rather than saw her start removing the leather leggings from her legs. If his balls hadn't practically jumped inside his body for warmth, he was pretty sure he would be terribly aroused right now, but he followed her lead and started peeling off layers of his clothing.

As soon as her legs were free she spread her leggings over the pile of furs and tangled her bare legs with his. They both hissed at the cold, but made no attempts to move.

Gawain understood now. It was basic survival to strip down and use body heat to warm each other, but he couldn't get his brain to function that quickly before. He practically ripped his undershirt over his head, tossing it over the furs and pulled her cold little figure towards his bare chest. She hissed and let a cold breath go through her mouth onto his stomach. He clenched, but made no other move than to run his cold hands up and down her equally cold back.

She did nothing but shiver for a very long time, but the temperature was slowly rising off of both of their skins.

"Gawain?" Awen said into his chest. He felt it vibrate up into his shoulders. He pulled her tighter towards him before he answered.

"Yes?"

"Thank you"

Gawain smiled into her hair and nodded against her head.

"Anytime." Gawain breathed into her hair and pulled her deeper into the furs.

Whew! Okay, so that last part was sort of a –what?- but, I've been stuck at home with strep throat and a nasty fever, so I sort of gave Awen what I would love to have right now…a big man hug! And since artists can only ever recreate themselves, Awen got it :) please read and review, guys, I'm serious this time!


	8. Pigheaded Misadventures

Okie Dokie. First of all, y'all are awesome with your reviews! I can't even believe the response from the last chapter! You all rock my universe and I hope you win a free baked treat this week in your respective countries:) Also, I was rereading this piece when I realized that there are no "hot" scenes yet! Eight chapters in, and not even so much as a kiss (accidental or otherwise)! So, while this chapter does fulfil the sad prophecy of its predecessors, I promise the next one will spicy and delicious (kind of)! I even made this chapter extra long to get the next chapter prepped and ready for some delicious action;) Please remember to read and review! It makes my world turn;)

Disclaimer- I don't own anything, but he exceptionally naïve Awen.

* * *

><p>Chapter 8<p>

She had no idea what it was.

Could he have fallen asleep with a blade on? He couldn't have, it was too cold to keep any metal on your skin whatsoever. Maybe he had gotten up doing the night and brought it back with him? But then again, why put it there?

Awen shifted her left against it again, and felt Gawain pant into her hair and his hips involuntarily jerk into hers, forcing the hard thing into her lower stomach.

Awen grunted and scooted back again, rubbing a palm over her lower abdomen. It may not be a blade, but it certainly felt like the hilt of a sword. What on earth was it? It gave more than a sword did, but it had a stiffness to it that certainly didn't make it skin…even though it seemed to be attached to Gawain. It also seemed to cause him some sort of discomfort when it was touched. Maybe it was some sort of tumor?

Awen had known a man who had a tumor in his arm that had grown to the size of a child's head, but his tumor wasn't firm, like whatever Gawain had.

Awen contemplated waking him up to ask what it was, but didn't want to seem unknowledgeable, so she relied on her powers of deduction.

He hadn't had it when she fell asleep, and he hadn't had it when she got up in the middle of the night to relieve herself, which meant it must be an illness that only affected him during the morning…that was attached to him…

Awen was dumbstruck. What was it?

Gawain shifted and pulled her towards him again (and it), like he had been doing all night. It wasn't unpleasant to be enveloped by his warmth, but every time she made to move away, his arms wrapped around her and yanked her back.

Awen wasn't one to give out compliments, but Gawain's arms were about as easy to get out of as bear traps. It really was impressive.

Awen gave another experimental nudge with her upper thigh and felt whatever it was twitch against her. Gawain groaned, a low beastial sound and his head burrowed between Awen's head and the mattress, resting his forehead against the space where her head met her shoulder. His hips jerked forward again, but this time they held and pushed against Awen in a sort of frantic movement.

Awen was stunned and utterly lost. What was going on? Should she just let him push against her for a while? Or did she wake him up and tell him to stop? It didn't hurt very much, but what was he doing? Was it some sort of awkward cuddling? Gulcan had cuddling…issues, but that involved him drawing a blade whenever someone slept too close to him. Her father called it night terrors, but Gulcan's violent behavior was nothing like this odd grinding movement of Gawain's hips and the hardness between them pushing against Awen.

Deciding she had had enough of Gawain pushing her further and further onto her back and into the mattress, Awen did one of the few things she could think of and punched him in the lower stomach.

Gawain grunted and his air left him in a great rush that she felt against her neck.

Gawain didn't know what had happened. One minute he was in the middle of a fantastically vivid dream, so close he could practically taste his release; the next, he was swallowing mouthfuls of Awen's hair in an attempt to draw air with two types of dull aches pulsing from his lower stomach.

"Gawain?" Awen said wearily.

Gawain pushed himself onto his elbows and realized he was practically on top of her.

_And she feels fucking fantastic._

Well yea, but…fucking hell!

Gawain shot upright, letting the cold air of the morning hit him and brought the furs up to his waist, hoping to any higher power that would listen that she hadn't felt his morning wood…while he'd been on fucking top of her. Fuck.

Sure enough, Awen was staring directly at his groin. Entirely unabashed and distinctly curious; she actually looked like she might reach forward and touch him. Half of him dared her to do it; the other prayed she didn't, lest he spill his seed all over her at first touch.

Awen sat back on her haunches and pulled a fur around her shoulders, alternating her gaze between his face and his groin. Gawain didn't know which he'd prefer she look at. He was sure that both parts of his anatomy were equally red at the moment.

Awen opened her mouth as if to pose a question, but closed it immediately and shook her head as if she didn't quite have the right wording. Gawain wished he could help her, but he was honestly too embarrassed to think past locating where he had thrown his trousers. It was some victory that they had kept their under clothes on at least, there would've been no guess work for her at all otherwise.

_Or for you either._

Damn it! Was that voice at it again?

"Gawain?"

He hadn't realized he had looked away until he had to look back at her.

"Yes?"

"Night terrors?" She said, gesturing to his concealed erection.

Gawain couldn't help himself. He didn't mean to and he felt like the worse sort of arse when he saw her face afterwards, but it couldn't be stopped. He burst out laughing.

He laughed so hard that his abs started to hurt and he ended up sprawled, face-down on the bed, laughing into the linens. He felt something hit him in the back of the head, and sobered long enough to realize it was Awen smacking him with a pillow; she was grimacing, but she looked extremely embarrassed, which only made him laugh more.

It probably took a good five minutes for him to stop laughing and turn to face her.

Awen knew she should be mad at him for laughing at her. In fact, she was! She had given her best guess as to what caused his discomfort, and he had laughed at her! Full out, tears in his eyes, laughed at her! But looking at him now, with hair bed tousled, smile wide and lazy, and eyes practically sparkling with mirth…it was difficult to hold a grudge against him. Awen looked away from him towards the window and tugged her furs closer to her.

Oh great, now she was pouting. Gawain sighed and tentatively placed a hand on her blanket covered arm.

"Awen, it's just something that happens to men in the morning. There's no need to be embarrassed." He said giving her arm a light squeeze.

"No it not!" Awen retorted, shoving his hand off of her arm and shooting him a look that said she knew what she was talking about. Gawain sighed.

"Yes, it is." Gawain said patiently.

"No it not!"

"Awen…."

"Gawain!"

Gawain turned his face back into the mattress and groaned. Was he really arguing with his _wife_ about morning wood?

"I live with men whole life! They not do that! That…thing!" Awen said, gesturing to his lower half.

Gawain smiled into the mattress. He hated to admit it, especially when she was arguing about something she knew nothing about, but she was kind of adorable in her pig-headedness. He had half a mind to just stand up and pull his under leggings down, but he wasn't sure she'd take it well…it would shut her up though.

"Alright, Awen. You're right. I'm an anomaly. It only happens to me." It felt like that as of late, but that was just because he had to listen to Arthur talking of waking to find Guinevere lips around his cock. The idea of Gwen down there actually made him a little sick, but he would not opposed to Awen sating her curiosity in such a fashion. The thought made him shiver.

Awen apparently thought he shivered from cold, because she threw a fur over the top of him, making breathing an issue, and asked, "Anomaly?"

"Not normal." Gawain said, pulling the fur off his head.

Awen nodded and leaned off the right side of the bed, winced and came back to a sitting position. She glanced at Gawain then pulled the furs up to her neck and slid from the bed, collecting her leggings and slinking to the floor; using the bed as an effective dressing shield.

Gawain looked away from Awen, towards the door. He didn't know why, but it seemed polite. It wasn't until then that he noticed Bridget standing in the doorway. He jumped about a mile off the bed, keeping the furs secured at his waist, cursing as he went. Awen spun around, halfway through lacing her leggings, saw who was at the door, waved and sat back down to finish dressing.

Gawain was suddenly frustrated with her for not being more embarrassed, but let it pass and instead glared at Bridget in the doorway who was waving back at Awen.

"What?" He spat at her, "Does knocking disable you in some way?"

Bridget flushed and let her hand drop.

"Kay has been looking for you. He said the grounds are frozen and they'll be no training today, so he wondered if you wanted to read some Marcus Auelius today?" Bridget was shifting under his gaze, but didn't run away screaming. Gawain had a grudging amount of respect for her.

"Mar-kus A-rail-ee-us" Awen sounded out from behind him. If Bridget weren't standing in front of him, he was pretty sure he'd be grinning stupidly at Awen's almost child-like repetition.

He felt something hit him in the back of the head and realized Awen had thrown his pants at him. He grabbed them and tromped off the bed.

"Fine, I'll meet him ten minutes."

Awen smiled and jumped up and across the bed to meet Bridget at the door.

"Do you want to watch?" Bridget whispered when they practically loped from Gawain's rooms.

Awen nodded and let Bridget loop her arm in hers as they winded their way down to the kitchens.

.

"Begin- to begin is half the work, let half still remain; again begin this, and thou wilt have finished." Kay read and then handed the text back to Gawain, who looked well and truly frustrated.

"Do every act of your life…as if it were your last." Gawain only paused once and smiled when he finished the sentence. He liked that one.

"That good." Awen said smiling. Gawain couldn't help it (she was practically infectious), he smiled too.

Awen and bridget had sat in on Gawain's 'lessons' this morning. Well, Bridget was sitting quietly next to Kay and Awen was fidgeting, cross-legged on the table and pulling Gawain's swords in and out of his sheaths, repeatedly, the entire time she had been perched there. The constant motion was driving him a little insane, but Bridget kept scolding her with little comments and pulling various objects out of Awen's hands, leaving the young Pict pouting. It shouldn't have been adorable to watch her act like a restless child, but it really was.

"Would you like to take a swing at it, Awen?" Kay asked as Awen began reaching for Gawain's swords yet again.

Awen looked at Kay and shrugged. Gulcan had made her memorize the English alphabet when he had started teaching her father, but she didn't have the patience to learn how they came together. She knew enough to spell her name, and that was good enough for her.

Gawain handed her the book and Awen figured it would've been more helpful if he handed her horse manure for as much as she recognized. She knew all the letters, but didn't remember the sounds they made.

'Do' that was a word she recognized. Gulcan had taught her father how to spell short words at first and Awen had maybe, sort of listened. The sentence Gawain had just said had started with 'do', maybe she had found his sentence!

Awen smiled and put the book down on the table, trailing her finger underneath the words as she repeated them.

"Do. Every….Act. Of Life. As if…It. Were? Your. Last."

Kay, Bridget, and Gawain all stared at Awen in open shock.

Did she seriously read the line that took him weeks to comprehend in less than a minute? In some terrible part of his mind, he hoped she was just repeating what he said…but how had she found it within the text unless she understood?

"Awen…can you read English?" Kay asked in utter disbelief.

"No." Awen said as though she were disgusted by the idea. She looked back down at the line her finger was on. "Oh! W! A-W-E-N!" She said proudly, recognizing the W from were.

Bridget was still staring stupidly, unable to wrap her head around it. Kay shook his head sharply and pressed on.

"Then how did you read that?" Kay asked, pointing to the words she had just said.

Awen shrugged. "I know word, 'do' so I say from there."

Kay looked flabbergasted.

"That's brilliant..." Bridget finally said.

Gawain was about to say something smarmy and crass when there was a sudden commotion to his left, further into the hall.

Awen looked into the hall in front of the round table and noticed Sebast and his gang of mental midgets standing in the great hall, in full war paint. Before Awen could open her mouth to pose a question, Gawain was already up and standing behind Arthur, Kay in tow. They were too far away for Awen to hear what was being said.

Awen climbed down from the table and gestured for Bridget to stay while she moved to the stair behind the round table, directly behind Gawain's shoulders.

"…the wilding are gone. We done with Caemlot. We want land. Camelot land." Sebast was growling at Arthur, his 'loyal' men with grim expression behind him.

Ah! Damn! Sebast turned out to be just as stupid as she had suspected…He was going to try and overthrow the king. Fucking moron. He was going to ruin everything!

_Everything? So everything rests with Camleot now ?Or is it something else he could be ruining?_

Awen didn't know where the voice resonated from, but it needed to be quiet so she could think.

Sebast had just drawn a blade, but instead of resting it on Arthur's throat, he had placed his sword at Gawain's throat. Gawain rolled his shoulders and Awen felt, rather than saw his smile. He was enjoying Sebast's half-assed attempt very much.

Sebast's move was tactically, very smart (seeing as Gawain was the most skilled with a sword); however, he had made a severe error in forgetting that Awen was right behind Gawain…right in line with the swords at Gawain's back…

Awen saw both Hardte and Gulcan move to restrain the mindless fools flanking Sebast, but Awen knew she could restrain Sebast without their interference.

Quicker than wildfire, Awen pulled the right sword from Gawain's back and used his shoulder as a ballast to swing her weight over his right shoulder and bring his sword down between Sebast's blade and his neck. Before Sebast could parry, Awen brought Gawain's sword his throat and pressed until blood sprang forward and dripped down the blade. Sebast pressed forward in challenge, but Awen was unrelenting. Using her hand that had been steadying her wieght on Gawain's chest as leverage, Awen brought her foot up to Sebast's sternum and kicked him back into the ready arms of her father.

Awen watched him be dragged from the hall by his war braids, screaming like a woman in the throes of childbirth…braids which would soon be cut from his scalp; making him nothing but a civilian during his clan tribunal. Such was the way with those accused of mutiny in Hardte's clan. It didn't matter if you were a warrior, under Hardte's rule, they were all treated the same in a tribunal. She pitied Sebast. Her father would kill him if only to prove his loyalty to Arthur, even if his verdict was innocent...which she highly doubted since EVERYONE had just seen him and his pitiful attempt at overthrow.

Awen could hear Gwen coddling Arthur in the space behind her and for whatever reason, it irked her.

Why? He had barely been threatened! And yet, there Gwen was, telling him how brave he was. How she never wanted him to be put in that situation again. Was she kidding? He was a king. His life was in danger from birth, even before that, probably.

Gawain should be the one to be praised. As far as Awen could tell, he was the only one who had experienced any sort of adventure today. Not praised by Gwen, of course. Awen had been watching her while Kay had been 'reading'. Awen may not know much about Camelot, but if they way the men looked at Guinevere (as opposed to say Bridget), then it was proof enough that Gwen was a snare for men the same way fresh meat ensnared wolves. Awen had no use for snares at the moment, so she would settle for Bridget…she was quieter, anyway.

Gawain reached around Awen's front and attempted to pull his sword from her right hand. Awen couldn't comprehend why, but she had the strangest urge to lean into him and push him away. Not in offense, but…playfully.

The urge scared her.

Awen pushed the hilt into Gawain's hand, careful to avoid contact with his skin and bolted from the great hall like her ass was on fire.

Gawain didn't know what had just happened.

"Uhm, did your wife just save your arse from one of her own, Gawain?" Brastias asked from Arthur's left; blade in one hand, half-eaten chicken thigh in the other.

"D you ever stop eating? Soon, we'll have to roll you to the battle, Brastias." Gawain said with a smirk. Kay and Ulfius chuckled beside him.

"He has a point, Gawain…." Arthur interjected.

"Oh, shut it, the lot of you! She is a soldier and she only did what anyone would expect of a_ soldier_." Gawain said pointedly, before turning from the hall.

.

"You should've heard her! It was like it was her first language. She can barely mumble out English, and then she picks up a volume of Marcus Aurelius and suddenly she's fluent! It's was fantastic." Bridget said while folding Guinevere's dresses and organizing them by color, cumpulsively.

Gwen mocked her cousin's enthralled voice while she brushed out her hair in front of the mirror.

"I didn't realize you were such a fan of hers." Gwen said, turning towards Bridget.

"I didn't realize you weren't. What was all that time spent brushing her hair into the small hours of the morning if you didn't like her?" Bridget asked, truly puzzled. She thought Gwen liked Awen.

"I do like her. I just don't go around singing her praises to the world. I spend my time trying to organize the chaos that is Camelot! In case you haven't noticed, there's about fifty more soldiers here than ever before and they have no manners whatsoever! And not to mention the tradesmen coming in tomorrow…."

Bridget smiled and let Gwen prattle on for a while. Gwen liked to talk about herself. She should've realized it wasn't a matter of disliking Awen, it was a matter of the conversation not being about her. _Should've known_, Bridget thought with a smile.

Bridget loved her cousin very much, but sometimes she found her conceit to be a bit much.

"So maybe we can get some more soap down in the square tomorrow? I'm tired of smelling like…like…" Gwen seemed at a loss for words.

"Nothing?" Bridget said with a smile.

Gwen smiled and put down her brush.

"Well why don't we go check on your favorite pupil, Bridge? I'm sure she'd welcome some company aside from her gruff 'husband'?" Gwen said using air quotes with the word husband.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that, Gwen. They seemed very comfortable when I went to collect them this morning. Besides, I haven't seen her since that little altercation this morning." Bridget said, turning back to her work, knowing full well that the mention of this morning would send Gwen into another rant about either herself or Arthur.

Guinevere's voice had become a balm over the years, and now Bridget just listened while she talked and talked, not bothering to make her voice known. It was how she preferred it.

She would have to remember to tell Gawain about the odd soap story tomorrow if there was in fact a vendor of fine scents in the square tomorrow…

.

It took him a couple hours of evading his fellow knights and the damned trainees who insisted they be battle ready for the next time they rode out for a fight to finally make his way to the stables.

He didn't know how, but he was sure that's where she was.

Sure enough, standing outside of Guinevere's damaged mare's stall was Awen; cooing to the mare in Pict. She shot upright when Gawain entered, but sat back down awkwardly when she saw who it was. She angled her body away from him, which he found odd, but he made no comment.

"Her name is Mariah. Like the wind." Gawain said, gesturing to the horse.

Awen nodded and ran her hand softly over the rough skin of the mare's injury.

Gawain rubbed his hand up and down the nape of his neck. He didn't know what to do with her when she didn't react. If he thought her reacting to everything was difficult, this was ten times worse.

"Are you…ugh, are you alright?" Gawain asked.

Awen nodded, but said nothing. Gawain wanted to shake her. She had just publicly defended him against a man from her own clan and now she just sat there?

She didn't trust herself around him anymore. What if she got another of one of those terrible urges like she did this morning? She had hated it. She wasn't afraid of him. No man could ever intimidate her; it was something she had prided herself on. She knew how to deal with intimidating men, but that wasn't the problem with Gawain at all. He wasn't frightening. What frightened her was her reaction to him.

She wasn't an idiot though. She knew she wasn't going to be able to hide from him for long, now that they were playing nice…she just needed to keep him at a distance.

"Who own her?" Awen asked, still not looking at him.

"Guinevere."

Awen spun around. "Why is she no here care for her?" She all but screeched. The mare nickered at her and she lowered her voice, but she was still visibly angry. Gawain smiled. This was an Awen he could handle.

"I think the mare frightens her now." Gawain said walking forward to scratch at the mare's withers.

Awen nodded and took a step back, feeling herself blush and wishing she could rip whatever it was that made her blush out of her face. Blushing was so useless!

"I have…bathe..now…"Awen said shuffling backwards. Gawain turned red and nodded quickly.

"I'll just…see you later then?" Gawain asked awkwardly, turning more and more red by the second.

Awen nodded and scooted around Gawain.

.

That was one of the most awkward experiences of his life.

But of course, he had to have the wonderful idea that occurred to him afterwards…which meant that this next project was probably going to be the most awkward experience of his life.

He couldn't even believe he was going to do this he thought as he raised his hand to knock on Guinevere and Bridget's door.

_Now or never._

He sighed and knocked. Bridget was the one to answer. That was some small relief.

"Oh! Hello." She said cheerily and gestured for him to come in.

Gawain declined and remained outside their room. It seemed odd to walk into a female's room.

"Is Guinevere here?"

"She is and she's wondering why you are." Guinevere said, coming to stand behind her cousin in the doorway.

Gawain clenched his jaw and attempted to be civil.

"I was wondering how attached you are to the gray mare that was half-butchered by Oldwolfe…and if you would consider trading her…" Gawain said with all the kindness he could muster.

It seemed like a wonderful idea when it first came to him. Get the horse that Awen was so attached to and give it to her as a show of good faith…and to abolish the sudden awkwardness between them. Actually asking Gwen to buy her mare was something entirely different than his original thought. He realized as he was walking to her rooms that he would have to apologize to her if he hoped to accomplish anything (even though she hadn't apologized for accusing him of being a rapist), but hadn't really thought much about it while he was so pleased with himself for having the idea in the first place.

Now, seeing her all-too-pleased-with-herself expression, he knew there would be no escaping it.

"Oh, that's perfect, Gwen. You were talking about how you wanted to trade her in the square tomorrow, this would be brilliant!" Bridget said, looking to Gwen who was avoiding her cousin's gaze and challenging Gawain with lifted brow.

"Of course I'd be willing to trade her…on the condition that you apologize for your abrupt behavior towards me AND Arthur." Guinevere said, hands on hips, leaning over Bridget's small frame to make her point all the more clear.

Gawain sighed and wished he could punch a hole in the stone beneath him to fall into and get himself out of this situation.

"I'm sorry to have caused you and Arthur such distress over the past weeks. Please, accept my sincerest apology." Gawain said through a false smile and gritted teeth. Bridget seemed to be trying to control her laughter. Guinevere looked as though she couldn't decide if she was amused or angry. She gave her consent, nonetheless, and turned from the door into the space of her room.

Gawain let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding and started walking from the girls rooms. Bridget grabbed his arm when he was halfway down the half and he turned. She looked slightly lost when he turned around, like she had expected him to keep walking.

"Oh, well, I don't suppose it's any of my business, but I was wondering why you wanted Guinevere's horse? I mean, the only reason she's alive is because Gwen couldn't bear to put her down and Arthur couldn't bear to see Gwen unhappy…." Bridget spoke quickly, like she didn't know how much time she had before he just walked away from her mid-sentence. He felt like people did that to him a lot, but he couldn't remember ever walking away from someone talking to him…well, except Arthur, but that didn't count.

"Awen likes the mare."

Bridget looked like she had been slapped.

"Awen likes the mare…" Bridget repeated.

"Yes?" Gawain said, wondering why she was having such a hard time processing why he asked for the horse…maybe it wasn't such a good idea, after all. Bridget was a girl…and Awen was a girl; maybe if she thought it was a bad idea that meant that it really was a stupid idea to get Awen the mare.

"So you got it for her?" Bridget asked in a clearly skeptical voice.

"Yes?"

Bridget leaned away from Gawain and gave him a hard once-over with one eyebrow raised. He had definitely done something wrong, hadn't he?

"I feel so terribly stupid for misjudging you, Gawain." Bridget said after a moment. Gawain raised his eyebrow, but said nothing. He didn't exactly have a response prepared for that.

"If I had known you'd have bought me the world to keep me happy, I'd have married you months ago!" Bridget half laughed and squeezed his arm in a reassuring gesture, "I'm sure she'll love the mare. You did well."

Gawain gave her a small smile and felt at a loss. He didn't do well with compliments.

"Listen, since you're in the mood to make Awen the luckiest woman in the world, I should let you know that she has a bit of a weakness for lavender scented soaps…I hear there's going to be a vendor in the square tomorrow." Bridget said with a wink and turned away from him, skipping back to her rooms.

He could learn to like that girl, Gawain thought as he turned back towards his rooms. She was far more tolerable than Guinevere. It really was a wonder they were related, sometimes.

.

Awen had scrubbed her skin until it turned red. Her right side felt like it was on fire from the violence of her washing.

It was one of the few things she was allowed to do entirely on her own, so she did a thorough job of it. Everywhere else in the Castle was teeming with people, but this creek? Completely unsullied by the many hundreds of people swarming into Camelot.

When she was satisfied by the tingling sensation of her skin, Awen re-dressed and made her way back to the Castle. It was uncommonly cold again and the air around her stung against the exposed skin of her face and arms. If she didn't make it back to the castle soon, she thought she might actually freeze. Maybe it was the water of the oceanbeing so close to the castle that made it so cold here.

As the stone walls of the castle came into view, Awen let out a shuddering breath in relief and watched it cloud in front of her face.

By the time she got to the castle, she was shaking and her nose was cold and dripping. She really wanted a fire and she wanted it now.

"Awen?"

Awen paused and turned towards the sound of her father's voice, still shivering. She willed her teeth to stop clattering, but was unable to.

"The boy king thanked you for saving his champion in our meetings this morning. He said I should be proud of you. .." Hardte said in Pict, to keep from being overheard.

If Awen could've mustered enough blood to her face, she would've been blushing. She knew her father well enough to know that he had just told her he was proud of her…in his round-about way. She nodded, trying not to smile or do something stupid like fling her arms around him. Hardte nodded back and clapped a hand on her shoulder. Her breath left her in a great whoosh from the impact. Hardte walked away and Awen made her way to the stairs, trying to hide her smile, lest she bite her lip from the constant chattering of her teeth.

When she finally got to her room, she scurried to the fire and crouched there, letting the flames practically lick her fingers. When she saw the tips of her fingers turn red, she finally allowed herself the smile she had been holding in.

Gawain didn't even think she even knew he was in the room. She was just sitting in front of the fire pit smiling. Her skin was tinted blue. He wondered if she noticed.

He pulled one of the furs from the bed and brought it up behind Awen, moving quietly to drape it over her shoulders. She jumped about a mile as soon as the fur connected with her skin and she jumped away from him.

Gawain tried to give her a reassuring smile and held the fur out to her. Awen gave him a wide, lopsided smile and pulled the fur from his hands, letting it drop hap-hazardly to the floor. She had the strangest desire to jump up and hug him…in fact, she decided she was going to. She was in too good a mood to temper her urges. She was a Pict princess, a daughter of the fearsome Hardte and she would not let herself get in her own head.

Gawain let out an odd 'oomph'ing sound when Awen collided with him, but smiled and wrapped his arms around her as he felt her squeeze her arms around his neck in a near- death grip. She felt bloody fantastic. Cold, but fantastic. He could feel the cold press of her chest to his and the freezing bite of her cheek where it rubbed against his unshaven jaw.

It was subtly different than last night. Sure, she was still practically freezing, but it felt different being tangled up in her now. If he pulled back even so much as two inches and turned his head to the right, he'd be kissing her.

The idea was intoxicating.

Before too long it was all that consumed his thoughts and the air around him became too thick to breathe. He wanted to push her away. He wanted to pull her closer. He wanted to get under her skin. He wanted to kiss her senseless. He wanted so many things that it soon became almost unbearable and he reluctantly pulled away.

Awen was still smiling when she followed his lead and pulled away. Gawain gave her a small smile in return and tugged a few strands of her hair, playfully.

"I have to go take care of something…Do you mind if I join you again tonight?" Gawain asked quietly.

Awen shook her head and turned back to the fire pit, small smile still curving her lips.

Gawain had wanted to tell her about Mariah, but that could wait until the morning. Right now, he needed out of this stifling room, quickly.

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><p>Okay, so I hope to hear your feedback…so, press that lovely, little review button…My name is KBird and I want your reviews! Muahahaha!<p> 


	9. Intimacy Issues

Otay, explanation time:) so there are sections in this chappie where Awen is girly and Gawain is totally whipped, but I promise this will be a singular event (sorta)! It was totally necessary! So don't rip my organs out just yet. Moving on, this is the first semi-smoky scene I've ever written, so please lemme know if it's too clinical…cuz it felt that way when I wrote it.

Disclaimer as always, no suing! But reviews…reviews I want.

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><p>Chapter 9<p>

Awen didn't mind this, she decided as she curled herself further into Gawain's warm shape. His arm muscles flexed where his forearm rested in the curve between her ribs and hip bones. Awen had never really cared for the shape or size of men as the other women of her clan had. She had been entirely indifferent. She could fight just as well as any of them, verbally and/or physically, so they all seemed the same to her.

It's why it surprised her so much that she had grown so fond of his arms. She had woken up this morning to find herself mesmerized by the movement of his muscles under the tanned skin of his forearm when he pulled her back closer to his front. His 'anomaly' was back, but Awen had pushed herself high enough up his chest that it didn't bother her much. She had been watching his arms flex every now and then. It was so much easier to observe him when his eyes were closed.

Cautious as ever, Awen brought her fingertips up the skin of the arm resting over her side and brushed over the hairs that dusted his skin. She felt Gawain shiver into her back and smiled as she felt his head bump into hers.

She remembered when she was little and she thought it was funny to pull her father's arm hairs out when he had caged her body with his own to keep her from running around the tents in the frigid northern weather. She didn't want to pluck any of the hairs from Gawain's arms. They were nice.

_Nice? Who Are You?_

Who, indeed? Awen disentangled herself from Gawain and his 'nice' arms and moved from the bed. Gawain mumbled something in his sleep, but Awen ignored it and collected her clothes. She dressed and walked past the bed towards the door, watching him.

He was stretched out on his side like a cat, pawing at the empty space where her body had been a few minutes ago. She smiled at the correlation. She wasn't really sure there was an animal to compare Gawain to. He rolled on to his back and the furs tented over his 'anomaly'. Awen made a mental note to ask Bridget or Gwen what that was later. Gwen may have more experience with men, but maybe Bridget would know if some men had an 'anomaly' like Gawains.

She left the warmth of her room and wandered about in the pre-morning emptiness of Camelot. The castle was so rarely this silent so Awen took full advantage and made her way to the near empty kitchens, snagging some odd looking porridge for morning meal.

"Awen?"

Awen turned on the table top she was sitting on and looked at the clearly disheveled looking Bridget with an equally disheveled Kay behind her.

Awen raised an eyebrow at their obvious surprise towards finding someone they knew in the kitchens at this quite early hour, but gave them a nod in greeting and turned back to her food.

She heard Kay mumble something to Bridget in a hushed tone followed by the sound of his retreating footsteps. Was he leaving because Awen was here? Awen tried not to take it personally and instead turned her attention back to Bridget who was now ladling herself some porridge with a fresh blush spread across her cheeks and neck. When she turned around, her eyes widened when she found Awen watching her.

"It's not what it looks like! I swear!" Bridget said quickly and rushed over to the table that Awen was perched on top of to grab her hands as though it would make her understand even better.

Awen didn't understand.

"Look like?"

Bridget blushed even redder and dropped Awen's hands, stepping back.

"What look like, Bridge?" Awen asked, all curiosity. Bridget fidgeted with her clothing, but gave in to Awen's curious queries.

"It looked like we were engaging in pre-martial… intimate…activities." Bridget answered, growing more and more red by the second.

"Pre-marital? What mean?" Awen asked, thoroughly confused.

Now it was Bridget's turn to be confused.

"Well…Awen, There are some acts that people are not supposed to engage in before they are married. Like…" Bridget looked around cautiously before answering, "Sex."

"Sex?" Awen had never heard the word before. It sounded bad by the way Bridget said it; like some great secret that only married people knew about.

Bridget looked like she had been slapped. Awen didn't know what sex was? God damn! How on earth had she been married for near a month and the subject hadn't come up? Woah…Gawain had been married to her for a month and hadn't consummated the marriage yet? Even Bridget knew what sex was! Prudish Bridget! Sure, she had Guinevere's tales (whether fabricated or not) as her only source, but she still had a general understanding! Hell, Awen had grown up with men, how had she not accidentally walked in on one of them or some such?

"Bridget?" Awen asked quietly, like she was afraid she had upset her in some way. Bridget shook her head to dislodge her thoughts. She really didn't want to be the one to have to explain this to Awen…Ironically, it should actually be Guinevere to talk to Awen, but she supposed now was as good a time as ever.

"Walk with me," Bridget said, pulling Awen from the table and urging her towards the door. If she really was going to educate Awen in the field of intercourse (to the best of her ability) she sure as hell wasn't going to do it where someone could overhear.

.

He hadn't seen her yet this morning. He had woken up to an empty (cold) bed and no notion of where she had run off to. Bridget and Gwen were also unaccounted for; so it was easy to know who she was with, but he still hadn't seen any of them today.

"I saw Awen walking with Bridget this morning. Did you do something to her? She looked positively green." The recruit named Drustan said as he stood, brushing the dirt off of the side that Gawain had just kicked. This trainee was determined to chatter while he trained. It was as annoying as it was ineffective. You should only speak if you have the skills to back your taunts. Drustan did not, but his particular subject change had piqued Gawain's interest.

"No. Now, focus." Gawain growled and gave his sword a swing at Drustan's surprised face, missing him by inches.

Drustan parried and took a step back.

"Are you sure? 'cause she looked like she might be sick and Bridget was just talkin her ears off…."

"Watch your mouth." Kay growled from the sidelines. His outburst stole Drustan's attention and Gawain kicked him to the ground again.

"And watch your opponent! You're hopeless, boy!" Gawain yelled.

"Enough of this. I've been watching Gawain terrorize the recruits for hours. When do we break for lunch?" Brastias called from the opposite end of the courtyard.

"Does he think of nothing but his stomach?" Ulfius said from behind Kay. Gawain sighed and Kay chuckled.

"Alright. Enough for today. Continue with sword training after lunch. Tomorrow, we switch to arrows." Gawain said to the trainees, sheathing his blades.

Drustan let out a sigh of relief and scurried from the courtyard.

"He's an odd one to be sure." Kay said. Gawain nodded and walked with Kay, Ulfius, and an overly enthusiastic Brastias towards the kitchens.

Gawain nearly walked into Kay's back when he paused in front of him in the doorway.

"Uh, Drustan may be a bit of a brat, but he may have had a point, Gawain," Kay said over his shoulder to where Gawain loomed.

Gawain pushed Kay forward to get a better view. What he found was Awen perched cross-legged on the table in front of Bridget with Gwen sitting to Bridget's left talking animatedly. Awen didn't look nauseous so much as she did bewildered. Gawain would've loved to be a fly on the wall next to them.

Gwen was gesturing wildly with her hands and Bridget looked like she wanted to either laugh or hide under the table.

.

"So you see, you can only be attached if it's hard. Otherwise it just slips right out." Gwen said with a flourish of her hands. Bridget looked like she was going to die of embarrassment.

Awen nodded, dazed. Awen realized now why she had never been taught about the marriage right that was sex. It was so…enormously complex. The actual act itself seemed simple enough, but all the added nonsense that Gwen was describing just seemed unnecessary. Why did it matter who was on top of who? Actually, why did the act need to occur at all?

Awen now understood what Gawain's anomaly was (without having to disclose the knowledge of said anomaly) thanks to Guinevere's tendency to over explain everything. Maybe that was the purpose of the act. To relieve men of their…oh, what was the word Gwen had used? Erection. Yes, that was the word. It made sense now why Gawain had been rubbing it against her two mornings past. He was trying to make it go away through this sex act, but he had been asleep and didn't realize what he had been doing.

While she still wished she didn't know anything about it, this sex stuff certainly did make sense of a lot of puzzles in her life thus far.

"Well, I'm sure intercourse is all fine and good, but what is really important is intimacy. Which would be the kissing and cuddling that I was talking about with you earlier," Bridget said through a constant flush that hadn't faded a degree since this morning when she had come down to the kitchens with Kay, "Do you know what a kiss is Awen?"

Awen nodded absently. She knew what kisses were. Everybody knew that…she just hadn't known what kisses led up to.

Gwen and Bridget exchanged skeptical looks.

"Are you sure?" Gwen asked.

This was ridiculous! Of course she knew! She wasn't stupid. Wanting the conversation to be over more adamantly than she had realized, Awen reached forward and grabbed Bridget by the back of her skull and planted her mouth squarely over hers.

Bridget sat back on the bench in shock when Awen released her, mouth open in shock. Beside her, Gwen started to giggle uncontrollably.

.

"I wasn't the only one to see that, was I?" Brastias half-whispered to the table of men around him.

"No." Kay's response had been dry and throaty, so he tried again for a more convincing tone, "No, you were not."

Gawain was rendered speechless. What had just happened? Had Awen honestly just grabbed hold of Bridget and kissed her in front of the entire occupancy of the kitchen? Did that really just happen or were his eyes deceiving him?

Arthur cleared his throat from the opposite end of the table and addressed the table, but Gawain could barely hear over the buzzing in his ears. Awen knew what kissing was…she also apparently knew how to kiss…which meant he could have been kissing her the entire two weeks he had been dreaming about her. But, oh no! No, Gawain had to be a mental midget and wait for Awen to kiss someone else to finally realize that his _wife_ knew what kissing was and was obviously comfortable with the matter! He felt like a complete and utter ass.

"Didya hear that mate?" Ulfius said, clapping Gawain on the shoulder and jarring him from his thoughts, "Merlin is back! He's come for the trade in the square. Well, let's go! Doesn't look like there's any more action to be had over there anyways."

Gawain shot a glance back to Awen to find her half way through the process of climbing down from the table. It stretched her body gloriously and Gawain felt his lower stomach give a kick. He looked away hastily and found that Kay had also been looking in Awen's direction…though his gaze seemed to be focused on an entirely different redhead.

Gawain nodded and pushed Ulfius' hand off of him, following the man out to the great hall.

Sure enough, standing in all his majestic glory was Merlin. Same as always with his runes drawn over his skin and hair cut to the quick; His mischievous smile ever in place, like he had not left at all.

"Sooo I hear there's quite a stirring in Camelot. Was that a square I passed through on the way in?" Merlin said in his usual, almost bored drawl.

Arthur smiled while the rest of the knights decided whether to rush forward and hug the warlock or slap him right for leaving them so abruptly. Kay was the first to act, extending a hand in renewed friendship. Merlin grasped it tentatively before pulling Kay into an odd half hug. Before Gawain could stop it, he was being pulled into a group hug surrounding Merlin.

When the group finally released, Arthur started talking of the changes at Camelot and of Oldwolfe and his recent defeat. Gawain watched Merlin's face through it all, completely unchanging. When Arthur finished, Merlin nodded and looked about the great hall, stopping at some point behind Gawain's right shoulder.

"I see tradesmen are not the only ones to have found their way to Camelot since my leave. You seem to be collecting Picts as well." Merlin said stepping forward.

Gawain heard Awen hiss behind him and stepped in Merlin's path out of reflex. Merlin raised his brow but took a step back, palms raised in a show of surrender.

"She's beautiful. I assume she belongs to you?" Merlin said with one of his indistinguishable hand gestures.

Gawain nodded even though he didn't think that_ his_ was an apt description of Awen at the moment. If anything, she was more Bridget's than his, at the moment.

Merlin nodded his understanding and looked around Gawain's solid frame to give Awen a wink before he turned back to Arthur.

"I think I'd like to go sample the fares of your new marketplace." Merlin said, draping an arm over Arthur's shoulder and steering him towards the square, "I think Camelot can accommodate my small luxuries."

Arthur said something back, but they were both too far anyway for Gawain to hear clearly. Next to him, Kay walked forward with Bridget on his arm, saying something about how he would buy her any one object she wanted. She was beaming up at him.

Gawain could feel Awen staring holes into the back of his head and felt her close in on his back. She couldn't be more than a foot away from him.

"Merlin?" Awen asked. Gawain nodded.

"He smell like Majick." Awen said quietly, walking forward to get a better view of Merlin as he moved about the square. Gawain didn't know why he didn't remember it until right now, but he was suddenly stuck with a recollection of Bridget's words about Awen's partialness to lavender soaps. Now seemed as good a time as any to see if there was a tanner in the square.

"Come on Awen," Gawain said extending his hand to her, "I wanted to get something in the square and you can get a better look at Merlin if you come with," he said, knowing that Merlin would pique her interest.

Awen looked at his outstretched hand suspiciously and then out to the square where Merlin stood. She really did want the chance to get a better look at him. She took Gawain's hand and allowed him to lead her into the bustle of the square.

.

Awen had been sneaking behind Gawain for near a half hour. She probably thought she was being very inconspicuous, but in reality, she just looked like a guilty woman hiding behind some big guys muscle. Guinevere thought it was endlessly amusing. Almost as amusing as the idea of Bridget and Kay. She loved her cousin, but Kay was the king's brother and champion; he wouldn't marry the cousin of the king's future queen. Gwen smiled to herself. She liked the title very much. She just hoped that Kay and Bridget didn't get too carried away one night and ruin Bridgets chances of marrying someone else.

Gawain looked like a man on a mission. So did Awen for that matter, but they looked to be set on different tasks. Awen was trying to stealthily stalk Merlin and Gawain seemed to be looking for a particular item among the vendors.

It still amazed her that Gawain had actually developed some semblance of feelings for Awen. The girl was easy to like, sure enough, but she hadn't expected Gawain to fall for her. And he was falling for her, there was no hiding it. Why else would he have bought her a horse? There were simpler gifts for a girl you liked, but loved? A horse might do the trick.

Gawain finally seemed to find what he had been looking for, because he paused at one of the stands and pulled his coin purse from under his leathers. Awen gave him an odd look, but went back to her perusal of Merlin. Gwen tried to see what Gawain was buying, but couldn't quite manage it. Whatever it was, it seemed that it wasn't meant for Gawain, but rather Awen. Gawain handed the package immediately over to Awen who gave him a curious glance, but took it without much conflict.

In the moments it took Awen to give Gawain an odd look, Merlin had disappeared. It wasn't until he came up beside her that Guinevere even realized he had moved. She jumped when he started talking.

"They certainly look cozy, don't they? Tell me, Guinevere, does Arthur give you the same type of attention?" Merlin asked. Guinevere pushed away from him, but didn't get far.

"Ohhhh, testy today. I'm just trying to give you some perspective." Merlin said, holding her in place by an arm.

"Perspective? Well allow me to return the favor. Where have you been while Camelot has been expanding to the point of bursting?" Gwen shot back, her voice tight.

Merlin smiled his coy smile and released her arm.

"Touche." Merlin said, bowing his head, eyes trained on Guinevere as she walked away in a huff.

Merlin stole her spot at the top of the stairs and peered down at the newest couple of Camelot. Truth be told, Gawain and his Pict were part of the reason Merlin had decided to come back to Camelot for a well overdue visit. He had suspected the Picts of foul play when he had heard of their location change to Camelot; thinking they had wanted to destroy Arthur by learning his ways (not unlike his favorite pet, Morgan). What he found instead was a clan of large, loud, and seemingly innocuous men (with the exception of one man whos braids were being cut from head when Merlin arrived) and a few overly large women.

And then there was Awen. She was the prettiest of the Picts (some small victory for Gawain he supposed), but she was as fierce as any of the burly Pict men.

And Gawain appeared to be falling in love with her. Merlin wanted to laugh at the irony of the situation, because Awen was about as experienced as a spoon when it came to intimacy. Merlin had seen her for all of five seconds and labeled her a maiden…his heart went out to Gawain. Poor man didn't really stand a chance until Awen learned which way was up.

Merlin gave a small smile to Awen who had just locked gazes with him across the courtyard. She grimaced, but hid behind Gawain again, keeping her eyes locked on Merlin.

Merlin smirked and turned inwards deeper into the castle. He wondered if that pretty little Pict had any idea that Gawain had just bought her a very expensive bar of lavender scented soap.

.

It had taken her a while to figure it out (or just giving up and handing it to Bridget and asking what it was) for Awen to figure out that the object Gawain had given her was the soap that made Gwen's hair smell like her old home. Awen didn't care that the sun was still out, she had stripped down to her under linens and asked Bridget to show her how the soap worked.

Bridget was shocked at Awens lack of modesty, but quickly recovered and took the soap from Awen getting to work on a bath for her.

The water was as warm as she could get it, but the cold of the Castle was making it difficult to keep it that way.

"So I need sex? Or no?" Awen asked as Bridget ran some more soap through the thick mass of her hair. And boy, did Awen have a lot of hair!

"Well you don't need it, per se, but it certainly makes marriage easier…or so I'm told." Bridget said. She was past the point of being surprised at Awen's topics of choice. She said what she was thinking and that was that.

"To hear Guinevere talk about it, it's actually quite fun once you get the hang of it, but I'm not really sure if that's true. Awen…you remember what Gwen said about the first time hurting right?" Bridget said before asking Awen to dunk below the water and wash the suds away. When she came back up, Awen nodded and brushed the soap from her eyes and mouth.

"Yes, but I have to do?" Awen asked, spinning to face Bridget.

Bridget shifted nervously. She supposed that Awen really didn't. She could leave that out of their marriage forever if she wanted, but she didn't quite feel that would be fair to Gawain. So she did one of the only immoral things of her life and lied.

"Well not right away, but yes. At some point, you will have to." Bridget said with a false voice that anyone could have spotted itf they'd been looking for it. Awen seemed to take her words at face value and nodded before turning back around.

Bridget took the opportunity to ask what she had been dying to know since Awen had planted her mouth over hers earlier.

"Awen, have you kissed Gawain?"

Awens head shot up and turned to Bridget with a quizzical brow.

"No." she said indignantly.

Bridget nodded and waited until Awen turned back around to grin stupidly. Poor Gawain.

.

Awen couldn't help from pulling her hair back around to her face and smelling it. She knew it was ridiculous. It smelled the same every time she took a whiff, but it was addicting. It made her home sick and happy to be in this cold castle simultaneously. She wondered if the soap had some magical quality to it to make it smell so delectable. Or perhaps Merlin had spelled it before Gawain had purchased it!

Awens gaze shot to Merlin who was sitting across the kitchen watching her. He smirked and turned his attention back to the soldiers at his table. Awen glared at him and hoped he really hadn't spelled it. It was too good a smell to be tainted by Merlin and his odd looks. Awen didn't know what to think of his return yet.

A motion beside her pulled her from her thoughts. Gawain had just swung a leg over the bench and was about to seat himself when Awen pulled her hair over her shoulder and practically shoved it down his throat.

Gawain pulled back a smidge, pulling strands of hair from his beard before he realized what she was trying to do. Her hair smelled like Lavender.

Gawain smiled into her hair and took a long inhale, letting his eyes droop closed. Her hair smelled like a lavender field in the beginning of summer when the heat started to cook the stems through, making the air heavy with the scent of the purple flower. When he opened his eyes, Awen was smiling at him, her eyes practically dancing with the excitement of her newly scented hair. Gawain returned her smile and let her auburn curls sift through his fingers, falling back onto her shoulder.

"It smells lovely." Gawain said, straddling the bench to face Awen.

Awen nodded enthusiastically and brought her own hair back to her face again. Gawain smiled again before biting into his chicken.

"Gawain?" Awen started, turning and bringing her legs up to cross over the bench seat. Gawain lifted his plate to make room for her legs and gave the universal male sign of 'I'm listening' with a single nod of his head.

"You want sex?"

Gawains upchuck reflex was quicker than his brain and he spat his half masticated chicken out onto his plate, coughing up what remained in his throat. Awen slapped him on the back a couple times, but said nothing. When he was finally breathing air again, as opposed to the chicken he had tried to breathe a moment ago, Gawain looked at her like she had just told him she was going to kill his horse. Awen didn't understand. Gwen said the key was conversation. They were conversing right?

"Awen…" Gawain started, then paused to run a hand down his very confused face, "Do you know what you just said?"

Awen nodded, thoroughly confused at his answer.

"And you know what…sex…is?" He questioned carefully.

Awen nodded again, almost proudly.

"I find what it mean today." Awen said with an upwards tilt of her chin.

Gawain couldn't decide if he wanted to smile, run from the table, fuck her into the table, or just cry. Any seemed possible at the moment. He had no idea how much she knew about that subject (especially with Gwen and Bridget as her teachers), but it obviously wasn't enough to understand the subject completely. Half of him wanted to just throw her over his shoulder and race back to his room to take her up on her not-really-an-offer. The other half knew better, but had no idea how to respond.

"Uhm…yes…" He thought carefully about the wording of his next statement; as it could decide whether or not he ever got to actually sleep with the adorable female in front of him, "but why don't you ask me that question again when _you_ want sex. Deal?"

Awen gave him a skeptical look but nodded and extended her arm. Gawain didn't know that Pict's shook hands to seal an agreement, but he took her hand anyway. Awen gave him and odd look and pulled his hand farther up her arm to clasp her elbow. She did the same to his arm and nodded her assent.

Awen went back to eating her meal and Gawain stared at his for a moment. A small (but dominant) part of him was calling him a moron, but he stood by his choice. She would have a full comprehension of the act before she participated in it. And afterwards, she would never desire the act from any other man from him. Gawain grinned to himself. Maybe he needed an ego check, but he felt like he had just burst through some sort of impasse with Awen and could now topple mountains if asked. Which reminded him…

"Awen? Remember the mare named Mariah in the stables? The one Oldwolfe took a swing at?"

Awen turned back to him and nodded wearily as if expecting him to say the mare had died.

"She's yours now."

Awen looked at him hard for a couple of seconds before she blinked and sat back on the bench a little.

"Mine? Not Guinevere's?" she said cautiously.

"Yours. I bought her from Guinevere….I thought you would want her more…" Gawain sounded uncertain. He didn't know what reaction he had been expecting, but his wasn't it.

Suddenly the air around him became charged with Awen's rising excitement. She was practically bouncing in her seat.

"Mine?" she said again through an impossibly wide smile. Gawain nodded and leaned back a ways. She seemed electrified; like she was a lightning bolt waiting to find a spot to strike. She finally found her target and launched herself at Gawain, knocking his plate to the floor in a clatter that drew many eyes to the display.

She was laughing around her awkward squeezing and the sound made Gawains heart lodge itself in his throat. Bridget had been right. He had done good. She pulled away from him, still giggling, before he had the chance to return her hug. She grabbed his hands and pulled him to his feet, practically dragging him from the kitchen in her excitement.

As soon as they had cleared the door way and were a decent ways into the cold night air surrounding Camelot, Bridget started to giggle; quickly joined by Gwen. Before a minute had passed, the entire kitchen had erupted with laughter; all save Hardte and Gulcan, who watched with mere smiles as Awen dragged her husband from the castle.

Merlin watched Hardte and Gulcan with interest and managed to quell his laughter long enough to address them.

"Is she always like that?" Merlin asked quietly across the table.

Hardte and Gulcan both smiled, but said nothing as they continued their meals in the uproar of the kitchen.

.

Awen was cooing to the mare in Pict again. Gawain should've been upset to have been dragged from the semi-warmth of the castle to come watch Awen pet her new mare, but he wasn't. Her reaction kept playing through his head like some inside joke that made you smile when you thought of it, no matter how inappropriate the circumstances.

Awen turned to him with her forehead still touching the mare's scarred muzzle and gestured him over. Gawain obeyed quietly and came to ran his hands through what was left of the mare's mane. The mares eyes were shiftly closing under the quiet sounds and touches of Awen. Gawain was almost envious of the mare, but he hoped that one day he would be the recipient of Awen's caresses; so he let his jealously subside.

Awen pulled back from the mare when she realized the mare had actually locked her hocks and fallen asleep. Awen grinned and looked back at Gawain who was watching her. She shifted under his gaze, but took his hand anyway and pulled him back with her towards the castle.

When they made it back to Gawain's room they were near frozen and Gawain grabbed furs from the bed and draped them over Awen and himself as Awen started about making a fire. Gawain watched her as she pulled a candle from near the door and lit the kindling; throwing them into illumination and casting the rest of the room into shadow.

Night had long since fallen and somewhere between telling Awen not to sleep with him and going to see Mariah, the mood had subtly shifted and suddenly the room was stifling again. Gawain didn't know how long he would be able to stand the tension that now suddenly infused the air. He hoped he wasn't the only one to feel it, but Awen hadn't stalled in her motions nor had she glanced at him once since he had felt his gut begin to tighten with the unsaid hanging thick in the air.

"Why give me soap?" Awen said suddenly, pulling her hair to her nose again and sniffing compulsively.

Gawain gave a forced smile and tried to act nonchalant as he walked towards her and pulled her hair to his own face to inhale it's heady scent again.

"I thought you would like it." Gawain said softly, letting her hair back down and trailing his hand over her shoulder when he did so. He was suddenly too close. She wanted to push him away or lean into him; she couldn't decide which.

Awen's eyes seemed out of focus. Her knees felt like they might knock together. She didn't know what she wanted to happen, but she wanted it to happen now. She could feel the warmth of Gawain's breath trek down her cheek as he leaned in closer and felt her own breath quicken. Her heart beat began to race and her stomach churned with excitement when Gawain's forehead leaned against hers.

She wanted him to kiss her, she realized. She wanted it desperately, but Gawain was just leaning against her! She let her eyes close and tilted forward to let her lips touch his tentatively.

Gawain almost jerked back when he first felt her lips on his, but refrained and instead pushed forward a bit, pressing his mouth more firmly to hers. Awen pulled back a fraction and so did Gawain, thinking he had scared her.

She looked like sin, he thought as he looked over her with her lips parted and eyes at half mast. She nudged his nose with her experimentally before leaning forward again. He met her half way and pressed their lips together again.

It was odd, Awen thought as she felt Gawain's mouth open and close in sync with hers. It was what she wanted, but it wasn't enough. She wanted…more, but she didn't know what that was. She brought her hands up to cage his head felt the furs drop from her shoulders. Gawain's arms came up to circle her waist and pulled her body flush with his.

Better.

She could feel nearly every inch of him against her.

Gawain suddenly eased the pressure of his mouth against hers and Awen felt something warm and wet trail over her bottom lip. She gasped when she realized it must be his tongue and drew back enough to see Gawain's face. His eyes had grown dark and almost glazed looking. He looked like a wolf circling its prey. Awen has strangely excited by the idea and felt her stomach flip in anticipation of her next move. She had never opened her mouth when kissing anyone before.

Keeping his gaze for as long as she could muster, Awen leaned forward again and ran her tongue along Gawain's bottom lip. She wanted to giggle at the sensation of his lips under hers, until his tongue came out to tentatively touch hers. Awen pulled back again, but quickly went in for another try. She would learn how to do this and she was determined to do it well.

Suddenly, Gawain's tongue had pushed past hers and flicked over the roof of her open mouth. Awen's knees knocked together and she let out and odd high-pitched huff that she didn't even realize she could make. It seemed to make Gawain happy because he pushed into her mouth with a little more force until she thought she might swallow his tongue. Awen pushed back with her tongue and found the odd wet pressure to be exciting. It felt like their tongues were dueling and if it were a real duel, she'd be winning, she thought dazedly as her tongue pushed past his into his mouth. Awen really didn't know what to do with her victory, but she knew she had almost fallen over when he flicked the roof of her mouth, so she gave his the same treatment. Gawain made a noise deep in his throat that sounded like he was in pain, but Awen knew better when he pulled her closer to him and she felt a sort of erection against her stomach. Gawain's reaction excited Awen to no end and she suddenly wanted to hear him make it again.

Feeling bolder, Awen pushed into him with both her tongue and body, rocking him slightly off balance and making him hard to the point of pain. Gawain pulled back for a moment to catch his breath and stare down at her with his wild eyes. Awen hand't realized she'd been panting until that moment.

Suddenly, Awen found herself pinned against the wall and Gawain's mouth on hers again. She brought her hands up to tangle in his hair like he was doing to hers and felt his stiffness rub between her legs. She gave the strands a slight tug, trying to get him to move his head lower so she could get a better angle, but the action seemed to please him, because he growled against her mouth and moved closer into her body; unintentionally rubbing against her.

Awen felt the strangest heat growing from just below her belly and realized this must be the 'aroused' feeling that Guinevere had talked about. It was horrible! Why hadn't Gwen mentioned that?

There was no sating it, it just seemed to churn her stomach and make her want to rub her legs together. Without noticing, Awen bit Gawain's lip in her own frustration.

Without any further warning, Gawain hoisted Awen against the wall and pulled one of her legs up to hook on his waist' keeping her pinned to the wall with nothing but his weight against hers. Some small voice in Gawain's head was warning him to stop, but she felt so damn good and she was so damn responsive that he may not even have the problem of going too far with her tonight. He might spill in his pants before he got that far. He had to give credit where credit was due; Awen was a quick learner and she would damn well get as much as she gave.

Awen rolled her hips against his and was suddenly confronted with the source of her relief. Awen let out a groan into Gawains mouth as he panted against hers trying not to focus on what she had just done.

Awen rocked her hips against his again and disconnected her mouth from his as the feeling in her lower stomach intensified. It wasn't a bad sort of in intense; in fact, quite the opposite. She wanted it. She wanted it to keep growing until it destroyed her. She rolled her hips again and this time Gawain's hips jerked forward of their own accord making them both grunt.

Gawain so wanted to finish her; to finish with her, but he knew he was already moving too fast.

As if summoned by fate, there was a knock at the door.

Gawain stilled his motions and forced Awen's hips to stop as well. He was torn between telling whoever was at the door to go fuck themselves and taking his wife right here against the wall or doing what was probably best and disentangling himself from Awen's heat (and god was she hot) to answer the door. Eventually honor won out, and Gawain pulled away from her slowly. She whined when her feet touched the ground and Gawain had half a mind push her against the wall again. Instead, he adjusted himself; watching Awens face the whole time.

She was flushed, eyes dark, her hair in wild disarray around her face, her lips full and plush from kissing him. He brought his hand up to his own lips as if to feel her there. Awen watched the motion with dark eyes. Gawain leaned forward and kissed her once more, whimpering when she bit his lip again in frustration, before finally making his way over to the door to kill whoever had interrupted them (whether he had secretly wished it or not).

* * *

><p>What did we think? Good or bad? Clinical or sexy? Give me reviews to feed my soul! As a side note, a friend of mine was reading my little story here and long story short, I lost a bet and will now be dressing up as Awen for all hallow's eve…ahem, Imma try to do my imagination justice, but we'll see how it goes:) If I take a picture I like I'll post it as my profile pic for y'all to analyze, but I'm a twentyish year old girl and therefore won't be satisfied with any picture ever taken of myself;) Remember to review, pleases!<p> 


	10. Burning

First comment I wanna make is that Merlin is incredibly difficult to describe! I see it clearly in my mind, but translating that to paper? I don't know how Joseph Fiennes does it. Fecking Genius! Just sayin. Second, sorry this took forever to post! I'm currently trying to escape the school/work monster, but it's not going too well…it's got me cornered…and it's only a matter of time…

Okay, moving on from my sob stories, I was reminded by one of you fabulous reviewers that Ulfuis actually dies at the end of Camelot season one …and as you will notice…he is not dead in my fanfic (because I could only recall him getting shot). So for the sake of my sanity, we're going to pretend that he didn't die and is alive and well; either that, or I have some serious zombie issues that need resolving. Also, I don't know if I was the only one to watch this show, but I just found that Game of Thrones has been cancelled…If you join me in this sorrow, please take this moment to mourn the loss of a seedy and fantastically gloomy series…cut down in it's prime! Oh, and I don't own Camelot…or they would be filming right now!

Chapter 10

"Wasn't interrupting anything was I?" Merlin said with his usual smirk; pointedly avoiding the tent in Gawain's trews. Gawain merely glared in reply.

"Gooood." Merlin drew out the word like he had all the time in the world to get his point across.

"I was actually hoping to exchange a few words with your wife…Is she around?" Merlin said with a mere shifting of his eyes into the room behind Gawain.

Gawain was too stunned (and probably didn't have enough blood flowing to brain) to respond right away. By the time his brain processed the information, Awen was already in the doorframe, using Gawain's body as a wall between herself and Merlin. Gawain tried to ignore the feel of Awen's hands on his back and focus on the sorcerer in front of him, but it was proving to be increasingly difficult.

"Awen? Why?" Gawain finally managed out. Awen's hands fisted the material of his shirt; subconsciously holding him in place in front of her.

"Ohhh…this and that."

Gawain raised his eyebrow, but gave no other response. He'd like to think he knew Merlin well enough to know that he wasn't going to get an answer from him if he wished to keep it a secret. Awen moved from behind him and he heard her shuffling around the room behind him. Gawain watched Merlin's smirk grow impossibly wide and stared at him for as long as he could muster before he finally became too curious and turned to see Awen rummaging through his weapons trunk, collecting all the smaller scabbards he had kept in there and attaching them to her person hurriedly.

Gawain rubbed a hand across his mouth to keep from smiling.

"Awen? What are you doing?" He had tried to keep his tone neutral, but even he heard the laughter built up behind it. Awen noticed it as well.

Awen's head whipped around to glare at him like he was stupid. She didn't say anything, but then again, she didn't have to; her how-dare-you-laugh-at-me-for-arming-myself-against-a-wizard look said enough.

"Well, then. It's a date…I promise not to keep her from you for too long…" Merlin said quietly, leaning in to Gawain as though it were some secret they shared.

Gawain grabbed Merlin by his travelers cloak and pulled him flush against him. Merlin smiled as Gawain's face came into instantly too-close focus.

"You will not harm her. You will not persuade her into any act she does not wish. You will not so much as touch her without my permission. Do we understand each other?" Gawain growled into the Wizard's smirking face.

"I wouldn't dream of it. I just wanted a little friendly chat with the Natives, is all…" Merlin said, sounding strangely dignified, despite being lifted from the ground and pulled to the chest of a larger (and still aroused) male.

Gawain grunted his consent and set Merlin back on the ground. He turned to Awen wanting to tell her to be careful or something, anything to keep her on her guard, but one look and he knew the words to be pointless. She looked armed for war and her expression said as much. She may not know what Merlin was capable of, but in that moment, she looked capable of anything and more. Gawain nodded and gave her a smile; all the while wishing that Merlin hadn't been in the doorway to witness it. In fact, if Merlin weren't in the doorway, this wouldn't be happening at all. He would still have Awen pinned to the wall…or she would have him pinned to the fall…or wrestling to see whom could pin whom to the bed…

Any blood that had managed to make itself to his brain instantly changed course and flew back down to his already aching loins. It was sheer and bloody torture.

Gawain's mood soured and he scowled at Merlin who was hiding his amusement behind his hand. Gawain was going to tell Merlin to piss off and just slam the ruddy door in his face when he felt Awen's cold fingers wrap around his bicep and tug, trying to get his attention. As soon as he turned to face her, she stretched up towards him and nipped at his closed lips; her cat eyes open the whole time. She growled at him and then practically pushed Merlin from the doorframe and started walking, assuming Merlin would catch up.

Merlin gave Gawain's thoroughly surprised face an amused glance and then leisurely strolled over to match Awen's pace.

Gawain smiled to himself. He knew what the bite was. It was a challenge. And Gawain was a sucker for challenges. His Awen was not afraid of her yearnings; she was a warrior, and if she wanted something, she would fight dirty to get it.

_So she's your Awen, now?_

Yes, he decided. She was. And he would be damned if he left his woman unsatisfied and frustrated; wizard at the door or not.

_Decided to have her only an hour after kissing her? Sexually frustrated, much?_

Gawain scowled. He didn't know what caused his subconscious to speak up so loudly in matters concerning Awen, but he might let Drustan get a few blows to his head next time if it meant it would deaden the voice at such inconvienent moments.

Well maybe he didn't have to sleep with her, but the gauntlet had been thrown and he'd be damned if he would lose because he had decided to grow a conscious.

.

"Does she think I'm a child? That I don't know that first thing about being a woman? I swear, sometimes she forgets that I've gone through her entire life with her! She's just so…"

"Egotistical?" Kay offered with a small smile.

"Yes! That's exactly the word!"

Kay sighed and reclined deeper into the chair he had occupied for the last hour while Bridget had been screeching about Guinevere's audacity. From what he'd heard (and he'd heard quite a bit) Guinevere had decided it was her responsibility to tell her cousin not to be sleeping around so blatantly lest she ruin her chances for marriage. Kay had half a mind to go tell Gwen where she could shove her suspicions about Kay and Bridget's activities (which she knew absolutely nothing about), but realized his presence was better served trying to keep Bridget from doing just that.

He'd never seen Bridget so irritated. Actually, if he were being honest with himself, he'd never seen Bridget anything but her usual charming self. When she had first stormed into his room, cheeks blotchy-red and hair wild, Kay had been captivated. She was like a tempest; destructive, but utterly magnificent in her power. He shouldn't have been so entranced, but he was. And that was exactly how he had gotten himself into this lovely situation of listening to about twenty years of pent up rage towards her cousin poured out in the span of about two hours.

"And you know what else?" Bridget continued, unaware of Kay's internal thought process. Kay gave her a look that said he did not.

"She always got every man's attention she ever wanted! She just had to smile at them and they fell under her spell! She may not have had…intimate…relations…with them, but she flirted shamelessly with them! Even men she didn't like! Even if she knew that others did like the men she drew in, she still gave them her favor…like a sort of compulsion. She just couldn't help herself…" Briget's ire instantly cooled and her head dropped forward in a sort of defeat. She looked like she might cry. Kay was instantly at her side, pulling her trembling chin into his chest and wrapping his arms around her.

Kay understood what had upset her. He understood it completely. Gwen and Arthur seemed to be better suited than he had ever previously imagined; except, while Arthur had slept his way between Kay and all of his girlfriends, Gwen had simply stolen the attention of anyone who might've seen the treasure that was her cousin. Kay knew what it was to grow in someone's shadow without that someone ever realizing they had cast it.

Briget's breath caught in her throat and made that horrible trembling noise that one always makes when they're trying not to cry, but end up bawling anyway. Kay knew it wasn't his fault that she was crying, but he still felt guilty. He hated it when women cried. He felt so helpless. All he could do was hold her.

Kay hugged her close to him until her shaking shoulders finally ceased and she fell asleep in his arms. He lifted her sleeping form and laid her out on his bed, and like so many nights before, he pulled the furs to her chin and went back to his chair, settling in for the night.

.

She hadn't said a word through their entire stroll through the castle. He hadn't expected her to, but it was still surprising that she hadn't risen to any of the bait he had dangled in front of her. It should've been a disarming trait to be able to hold one's own counsel so well, but Merlin found himself very pleased with her obstinacy. She was not the spy he had expected her to be. He may not be sure of much these days, but if he could be sure of anything, it was that Awen was just as naïve as she seemed. No more, no less.

Her little display with Gawain at the door had done nothing to lessen his suspicions of her, but he had soon learned (by admission or omission) that she had no idea what a turn on it was to have a woman bite you. Gawain was indeed a lucky man.

"So how does your father feel about having to answer to such a young king? Much less giving up his only heir to do to so?" Merlin asked, baiting her again. As usual, she said nothing, but glared at some far off place in front of her.

Merlin noticed that their tour of the castle was coming to an end when he saw the door to Awen's room up ahead.

" I have one last question for you, my talkative friend,:" He looked to Awen to see that she was listening whether she gave any outward showing of it or not, "Can I count on you to protect Gawain? Camelot has many enemies that do not fight with swords, Awen. Will you protect him to the best of your means? As if it were your own life you were protecting?"

Merlin knew she would answer that question. He knew she wouldn't like the answer anymore than she wanted to admit to it, but if she was half the girl he expected her to believe, she would protect anyone she loved with her life. If she said yes, she would be exactly what Camelot needed.

Awen stopped and looked at Merlin hard, as though she could see his soul if she looked hard enough. He wished her luck on that endeavor.

After a moment, Awen nodded her head. It was just one nod, a quick up-down motion and then she was gone; slinking down the hallway to disappear into her room. Merlin smiled as she went. If he could convince her to fall for the ideals of Camelot as surely as she was falling for her husband, she would be an invaluable asset.

.

He couldn't feel the tips of his fingers, and he was pretty sure his balls had jumped back inside his body for warmth, but Gawain was a man on a mission.

If Awen could issue a challenge, then he would respond in kind. He just wished he had thought of a warmer idea before he had initiated this one.

He shook the cold water droplets from his hair again and tried to repress the shiver that snaked up his spine. It had seemed like a fabulous idea when it had first come to him; to force Awen into the situation where she would have to view him as the man he was.

As all that he was.

Easiest way to accomplish said task seemed simple enough, just let her walk in on an everyday event (such as him dressing) and BAM! Turn her challenge in on herself. He knew she was competitive and if he knew anything about competition, he knew that Awen wouldn't let him intimidate her with a sheer display of nudity; in fact, he was counting on it. He knew what he was hoping she would respond with (and what his half frozen testicles hoped would happen), but even if she did run from his half-hearted response to her challenge, he would then know how far he could push her before she ran.

And he desperately wanted to know where to draw the line for himself, because if he got carried away like he did earlier, he would take her before she got a chance to tell him no and he would be just as bad as his "father".

Speaking of fathers, he should most definitely talk to Awen about some sort of contraception. He didn't know what women used, but he knew there was something she could use in the event that they ever did actually sleep together. Maybe the subject had already come up with Gwen, htough he doubted it.

Gawain pushed himself under the frigid water and pushed his hair back away from his face once more before he decided it was time to get out of the damn cold water before Awen came back from her stroll with Merlin and he was blue and shivering with his extremities sucked into his body for warmth.

Gawain pulled himself out of the water and wiped the excess water away from himself, trying not to focus on the cold breeze that hit his already cold skin like needles.

As if summoned by some cosmic "fuck you" that seemed to be circling Gawain's life, Awen chose that moment to walk into the room, hugging her blue tinged arms and face turned down in thought.

_Oh God, please don't let her notice me. _

Gawain's conscious was laughing at him and his best laid plans and the irony of the whole situation. Gawain's thoughts raced through every possible way to salvage this moment; maybe just slump back into the tub, or play it cool and just walk out of the tub. The former seemed like the exact opposite of what he was trying to accomplish, but with the way his luck was going, he would probably fall out of the tub if he tried to be nonchalant with his exit and choose the latter.

Fuck, it was cold! He could barely form thoughts; much less actually concoct a plan to get him out of this severely horrible situation.

Damn it, there was no pleasant way out of this.

_Might as well go for it, muttonhead._

Gawain took a deep breath thorough his nose and asked Awen to pass him one of the linens from the floor near the fire pit.

Awen looked up, surprised to find Gawain in the room at all, not hearing him move at all since she entered. What she found made her take a step back, which in turn made her trip over the linens she had stepped over and fall butt first onto the floor with a very undignified 'oomphing' sound.

Gawain let out a nervous chuckle and stepped out of the tub carefully, so he didn't end up falling as well. If he weren't so damn cold, he was sure he'd be blushing madly. This situation was so far from what he had originally predicted that he honestly felt sick. His gut was churning and he refused to think about the fact that he didn't have a stitch of clothing on or that his was so cold he could barely move through the profuse amount of shivers that racked his body.

Awen could do nothing but stare at him as he moved. She didn't know what it was that was so fascinating about him moving about without clothes on, but she couldn't quite tear her eyes away. Maybe it was that this was the first time she had ever seen a man absent clothes before. He was covered in a fine layer of hair, like some kind of beast and it was absolutely magnetic. She was pretty sure the image of him walking towards her naked would most definitely be burned into her memory for as long as she kept her mind sane.

She couldn't quite get a handle on her astonishment of what hung between Gawain's legs. She knew that men and women were different. She had actually seen the difference between male and female animals and had been told by Gwen that men resembled a sword hilt, but Awen still couldn't believe that she was actually seeing it. It didn't look much different than a stallion's male parts when it extended for pissing or mating, but it just seemed terribly uncomfortable to just have it hang there. What did they do with it while they were riding? Or running? Wouldn't it just flail between their legs? Gawain didn't have the extra ring of flesh that stallions had that meant he couldn't pull it back into his body when it wasn't in use, so it must just stay hanging there all the time! It just seemed terribly cumbersome and for one of the first times in her life, Awen was glad she was a female.

Awen gave his neither region one last skeptical look before returning her eyes to his face to find his lips twitching; like he was trying terribly hard not to smile. Awen had given up trying to understand his humor; so she stood up, cautiously avoiding getting too near the thing that lay between Gawain's upper thighs.

Gawain wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh out of embarrassment or the look of extreme horror Awen had paid his manhood, but either way, he was pretty sure he was going to start bursting out laughing pretty soon and he was pretty sure Awen would misinterpret his laughter like she usually did.

Gawain walked a circle around Awen to get to the linens she had tripped over, but Awen made a noise behind him like she was going to say something.

"Hmmm?" Gawain queried, not turning around nor securing the linen around his near frozen body.

"Where it go when riding? Back in body?" Awen asked in a voice that did nothing to mask her obvious dismay.

Gawain allowed himself a small chuckle and secured the linen around his hips. The plan had already fallen far short of his expectations; it seemed ridiculous to freeze his balls off as well. He may not have liked the outcome of his experiment, but her curiosity was proving to be very amusing. Her mind went to the oddest places with information. She sees a naked man in front of her and instead of shielding her eyes and turning away, she looks directly at his cock and wonders where he puts it when he rides horseback.

Gawain shook his head and turned to face Awen to give her his answer, only to have Awen be much closer than he had anticipated. He felt her cool fingers blush against his hipbones as she pulled the linen out of the way to take another look at him.

Gawain couldn't help it; he gasped and grabbed hold of her hands to stop her; letting the linen fall to his feet. Her expression said she was confused at his action, but her eyes held grim determination. He didn't know why, but he suddenly felt like this was her challenge in return and she wouldn't cease until her curiosity was assuaged.

Gawain gave a sigh of defeat and let go of her hands as she sat back on her haunches and looked intently between Gawain's legs. If this were any other woman, Gawain was sure he would've felt as though she were critiquing him, but Awen made it feel like some sort of examination. He couldn't decide which he preferred.

Awen suddenly looked up expectantly, as though he had started a story and stopped midsentence. Gawain suddenly remembered she had asked a question. What was it again? Oh, yes.

"I just sort of push it to the side, I suppose."

Talking made it easier, he realized. Made it seem little less like his wife examining him and a little more like awkward pillow talk.

"Anything else you want to know?" Gawain felt like he was releasing some sort of flood gate with the question, but he was cold and awkward and couldn't think of anything else to do with himself. His mind wasn't even concocting a never-ending stream of fantasies, even with Awen's mouth mere inches from his shaft and her hands twitching at her sides like she wanted to poke at him. Essentially, it was torture.

Awen looked up to his face again, curiosity brimming in her eyes. "Does hurt when holded?"

Oh. Jesus. His libido suddenly caught up with the situation at hand and wanted, more than anything, to just take her hand and wrap it around his cock; if only to prove how much it didn't hurt when held.

"No." Gawain had meant to say it with a voice of authority, like they discussing the weather, but his hormones had gotten the better of him and instead the word came out on a guttural sounding growl.

Awen's eyebrow raised; a sign of an impending challenge and Gawain was positive he had stopped breathing. Her cat-eyes held his gaze as she reached up and tentatively ran her fingers along the top of his shaft, from base to tip.

Gawain's body reacted, despite the cold clamping down on his bones and his urgent mental pleas for his cock to stay flaccid. His body felt the slightly warmer temperature of Awen's fingers timidly running down his already overly sensitized cock and he could feel the blood rush down to his loins. His shaft twitched with the initial swelling and dislodged Awen's curious fingers in the process. Awen gasped and broke away from Gawain's gaze to see what had happened. All thoughts of the frigid weather and the oddness of the events unfolding flew from Gawain's mind when Awen ran her fingers down his shaft again, smiling when he twitched.

Gawain's breath left him one great whoosh that Awen took as proof of her doing well, so she continued. She trailed her fingers over the hardening flesh between his legs; running her fingertips over the veins that protruded, not unlike his arms when he flexed. She wondered what the sack of flesh behind the organ in her hand served as. Maybe it was a second one? Horses didn't have that; but they did have the pouches of baby-fluid that her dad had told her about. Maybe that was where Gawain stored his baby-fluid? Awen brought up her other hand and lifted the weight of him in her palm.

Gawain groaned, long and deep from the back of his throat. God, this woman was going to be the death of him. She had been barely touching him; just those maddening little butterfly touches that drove him insane. Then out of nowhere, she hefted his sack! Lifted him like she had been touching men for years! Jesus, the woman was a menace. If he wasn't completely hard before, he was now. He could even feel the pre-come pearling at the tip of his arousal

Gawain grabbed Awen's hands and pulled them away from his manhood, choosing not to look at her confused face while he knelt on the floor in front of her, putting them as close to face-to-face as they could get while vertical. Gawain met Awen's almost wounded looking eyes and released one of her hands to cup her face and pull her towards him for a kiss.

Awen responded happily, having been thinking about the finer nuances of Gawain's kiss while she had been walking with Merlin. She figured it was just like swordplay; parry, thrust, retreat and repeat. Being a proficient swordswoman, Awen knew that the key to any skill was practice and she was more than willing to practice kissing Gawain. Awen pushed her tongue past his lips and felt him sigh into her mouth before his tongue touched hers, applying that tantalizing wet pressure. Awen's stomach tightened with that same frustration that had coiled in it earlier, but it was actually pleasant this time. It wasn't as urgent or maddening; it was just nice.

Gawain knew he was the worst sort of man to even be thinking it, but he wanted it so bad, he was almost past caring. He knew it was selfish to be thinking of his own pleasure before hers, but the little tease had whipped his hormones into a fury and if he didn't find some release soon, he was going to start crying. And if the option was taking pleasure from her now and returning the favor later or pushing his too-skilled-for-her-own-naïve-good-wife away and crying, the choice was simple. He just really wanted her hand wrapped around him, pumping him to sweet release as he had done many times with her image swirling around his mind.

Gawain lead the hand that he still held towards his arousal and carefully fisted Awen's hand around himself. Gawain broke from the kiss at the sheer sensation of someone else's hand on his cock and panted into Awen's slightly ajar mouth. Slowly, Gawain pumped Awen's hand along with his own and let his head fall onto her shoulder with a groan. The hand that had cupped her face, now clenched her hair and pulled her closer to him. Gawain ran his thumb over the tip of his cock and let out a heavy pant before releasing Awen's hand from his own and hoping she would continue unaided.

Awen didn't exactly know what she was doing and she had actually thought Gawain was in pain when he pulled away from her kiss; but when he had lowered his head to her shoulder and groaned like an animal in heat, Awen understood. And she liked it.

It gave her an unequaled power and pleasure to make this warrior who was on his knees in front of her groan. She may not be able to best him in sword play or prove her worth on the battlefield in front of him, but she could make him moan incoherently and make him fall to his knees in front of her. Awen smiled against his throat and gave his erection a firm squeeze before moving up and down as Gawain had done moments ago.

Gawain hissed against her collarbone when she squeezed him with her small, wonderful hands. His hips jerked of their own accord. The tension in his lower stomach began to coil about his spine making him shiver. It wasn't fair how close he was after just a few minutes. She had to be the quickest learner he had ever met and he was determined to give her just as much pleasure in return; or more, if such a thing were possible. His recently overactive mind produced an image of Gawain's head buried between Awen's legs, her back arched, brow furrowed, and mouth open on a silent cry of pleasure.

It shouldn't have been enough, but it was. He felt his vision narrow to a pinpoint and the tension in his lower stomach climb up through his spine while his hips thrusted against into her hand, sending him spiraling. He gripped Awen by her hair and pulled her closer to him while he came. He felt his seed leave him in pleasure-pain spurts to land on the cold stone and Awen's hand.

Awen didn't quite know what had just happened, but based on the sounds Gawain had made, and tightly he was holding her while he trembled against her and his arousal twitched against her hand, Awen could guess that she had done well. She smiled against his neck while he shivered against her, his hips still pistoning forward like he was trying to sit in her lap. After a few minutes, Gawain seemed to stop shaking and he removed Awen's hand from his length with a heavy breath.

Gawain leaned back on his haunches and pressed his forehead to Awen's, letting his breath even out. Of her own accord, Awen pressed her lips to Gawain's. He smiled against her mouth and bit at her lower lip before pulling back and resting his forehead against her again. His body temperature was steadily dropping and he felt like his limbs were made of lead. That was one of the best orgasms of his life and he hadn't even been inside her. Lord, he was going to spill like a virgin if he ever actually had her.

"Gawain?" Awen asked

Gawain pulled back and looked at her. He hadn't noticed until that moment, but her skin had a blue honey-comb design under skin; she was practically blue.

"Oh lord, you're freezing!" Gawain said, jumping up and pulling her towards the bed, wrapping furs around her. Awen kept one of her arms free from the furs and held it out to him with an odd helpless expression. Gawain looked at her palm to find his seed spread across it. Gawain was so embarrassed that he simply stood, motionless, in a stupor, staring at her hand.

Awen was a loss. She didn't know what to do with whatever it was that had shot from Gawain's 'erection'. It seemed disrespectful to just wipe it off on the furs, but she didn't know what else to do. It kind of resembled oatmeal. Awen brought her palm up to her face and took a sniff, wondering what it was. The motion seemed to snap Gawain from his stupor and he pulled the linens from the bed and wiped his seed from her hand, smiling sheepishly. He missed a bit from her wrist and when he turned around to throw the soiled linens somewhere to his right, Awen brought her wrist to her mouth and flicked her tongue out to the odd milky substance to see if it had any taste.

Awen swiftly brought her hand down when Gawain turned back, covering his nakedness with furs. Awen analyzed the taste of the white-oatmeal like substance while Gawain situated the furs about her. It wasn't like porridge at all; in fact it tasted more like the salt rocks that bordered the sea. It was odd, but not too terribly unpleasant. Maybe it wasn't a baby-inducing-liquid afterall.

"Awen?"

Awen turned, tugging the furs closer to her.

"Are you tired?" Gawain asked, half pulling her onto the bed and against his chest. Awen hadn't realized it until that moment, but she really was. She felt like she had been thrown from a horse repeatedly and her body was telling her she needed to sit the next one out.

Awen nodded against his chest and she felt his chuckle rumble through him, beneath her head. Gawain pulled her down with him when he reclined against the pillows and threw a few more furs over the two of them.

Gawain had so wanted to bring her to climax over and over again before she fell asleep, but a few touches from the wild seductress next to him and he was too sated to move. He would make her scream with abandon before the week was through he vowed before he passed into the realm of the unconscious.

Jeebus Crust! That took forever! I is soooo sorry my brilliant readers! I hope to get the next update sooner than however long it took me to post this one! Siriusly, that was ridickles. Anywho, I'm thinking of writing another fanfic completely unrelated to Camelot, but I have yet to find a genre that piques my interest…if you have any idears, please lemme know what I should be watching and/or reading to set my imagination ablaze!

Remember to review! It's that little button down there…you can find it…I believe in you ;)


	11. Ambiguity

There is absolutely no excuse for the delay in the chapter update. I'm a poor excuse for a human being. A thousand apologies, my dear readers! I hope you have stuck around thus far, because I've gotta tell ya…this chapter is filled to bursting with pertinent plot information. It's not as smexy (smutty, sexy- it's a word I'm trying to make popular, so go with me on this) as I had hoped, but as I started writing, I realized that if I wanted to accomplish the plot lines that kind of have to be secure for the next couple of chapters….Gawain is gunna just have to deal with some blue balls. And not to mention poor Awen! Poor, poor Awen. All that male smexiness to herself and no smex. But their time is coming, I promise!

So if my rant hasn't deterred you completely, read on! And know that I don't own anything you recognize, except for poor, smexually down-trodded Awen.

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><p>Chapter 11<p>

The infant squirmed in Vivien's arms as the servant watched her mistress pace hurriedly around the small sitting room of their new quarters.

"He should've been back by now," Morgan all but screeched in her unusually deep baritone, leaving the sound more like a warble.

"Perhaps he was delayed by the chill, m'lady," Vivien cooed dutifully, even though she knew the question was not aimed at her and did not require an answer.

"Oh please! It's practically mild out!" Morgan said with a vague gesture towards the window, which immediately burst open with the rush of yet another blast of cold air. Vivien ran to the window and pushed it shut again, plugging the nooks and crannies with whatever cloth she could find and trying to calm the ever fussing infant in the crook of her arm.

Morgan had been restless and waiting for news that was a week overdue. If Vivien had thought Morgan's moods intolerable before, they were positively temperate in comparison to her current emotional state. A knock sounded at the door and Morgan spun to Vivien with wild eyes.

"Give me the child and go answer it, quickly!" Morgan said as she grabbed at her son and pushed Vivien towards the door.

Vivien opened the door, fully prepared to address the hour in which the messenger chose to return, but was entirely unprepared to find Morgan's lead man half-dragging a beaten, ashen-skinned man with hair sheared to his scalp in his wake.

"I have a gift for the Lady," said Morgan's errand man, Tristan, in his usual husky burr, pushing past a stricken looking Vivien and pulling the man through the doorway with a grunt.

"Vivien, what is the meaning of this?" Morgan said as she watched Tristan heft the bloodied man into a heap on the floor of her quarters.

"I do not know, m'lady," Vivien said in a voice just above a whisper and shooting Tristan a look that said if he did not explain in her stead, she would make sure the cook poisoned his food. To her shock, Tristan chuckled at her before answering Morgan.

"He was one of the Pict soldiers that rode in to Camelot with the new wife of Gawain. He made a move for Arthur's head and was cast out…dishonorably," Tristan paused to shift the man onto his back so the women could see the bloodied swatch of fabric between the man's legs. Morgan made no notion of her thoughts on this, but Vivien winced and looked away.

"He may not look like much, but if the men who came out to feed him on his post before I cut him down are any indication, then he still has allies within the walls of Camelot….and a distaste for Arthur to boot."

The infant took this moment to squeal very loudly, pulling Morgan from whatever thoughts had captivated her so and she looked down to the child in her arms as if she had only just noticed his presence there. With a grimace, she handed her son back to Vivien.

"You have done well, Tristan, and will be well provided for. Vivien will show you to your room and will provide you with sustenance." Morgan said, never moving her eyes from the body of the bloodied and unconscious Pict on her floor.

"Will you be alright, m'lady?" Vivien asked, warily eyeing the man dripping blood onto the rug.

"Of course," Morgan said, tearing her eyes from the bloodied mass before her and looking at the child squirming happily in Vivien's arms, "And take him to bed when you've finished helping our guest, Vivien."

Vivien took this as her dismissal and led Tristan through an adjoining door, down into the kitchens.

Vivien did not trust big men. She had far too many experiences with them in the past to give any one of them the benefit of the doubt (especially one who worked for Morgan), but did not receive the same aura of foreboding with Tristan walking behind her. He seemed almost jovial with Vivien as his guide on his walk towards his meal, even after her less than pleasant scowl at him earlier. If anything, if felt as though she were walking through the halls with two children, instead of the infant at her hip and the man who's height far surpassed her own behind her. This should have put Vivien at ease, but instead it just increased her wariness of the man.

"Do you like working for her ladyship, love?" Tristan husked at Vivien when they were out of earshot. Something about Tristan's voice seemed off; like there was a piece of his voice that was missing or damaged somehow. Similar to how a woman's voice is broken after someone has tried to strangle her; Vivien couldn't imagine anyone being able to strangle the imposing figure behind her.

Vivien felt no need to answer Tristan's question, but considered her answer anyway. Did she like working for Morgan? No, working for Morgan was only marginally better than being homeless. She was violent, unfair, selfish, and utterly non-maternal to a son born of hate and power-play; but Vivien knew that if she wanted any hope of fleeing to Camelot and being kept alive, she would have to be able to give them any information she could about the woman they deemed harmless after her fall from power. Her first line of defense just so happened to be the infant babbling happily in her arms…

"She is a just woman worthy of her station. And do not address me as such. My name is Vivien." Vivien said, quickening her pace and hoping he didn't hear the tremble in her voice when she had used "just" and "Morgan" in the same sentence. Tristan easily kept up with her lope and chuckled before gently placing a hand on her shoulder to stop her. If Vivien hadn't been carrying the infant, she would've slapped him for laying hand upon her, but as it was, her only defense would have to be her voice.

"How dare yo…" Vivien's speech was cut short by a heavy hand cupped over her mouth and the dark eyes staring intently at her.

"I am not going to hurt you, Vivien, but I must confess, you do look like you need a good spanking. As it is, I need your help, so I will keep my hands to myself. If I remove my hand, will you wait until I have made my proposal before you scream?" Tristan said in a slow, deep, broken voice that had a strange melodic quality to it. Vivien found herself nodding.

Tristan slowly removed his hand from her mouth, making sure she didn't break her word and scream for Morgan. Vivien watched the candlelight flicker across his dark eyes and readjusted the now silent child on her hip.

"What do you want?" Vivien whispered.

"I want to pledge my allegiance to Camelot…and I want you to come with me." Tristan said simply, leaning back and folding his arms across his chest to gauge her reaction. Before she could say anything, Tristan chuckled his hoarse little chuckle again and started walking forward again, either expecting her to follow or knowing she would.

"You little minx, you aren't even a little bit shocked. Must've thought about it yourself then. Doesn't surprise me. You're the only one here with sense." Tristan threw back over his shoulder in Vivien's direction. Vivien smiled to herself and walked behind him, silently, towards the kitchens.

"So do you have a plan?" Vivien whispered.

Tristan's laugh was so loud that his gravelly voice could be heard throughout the entire inn.

.

"Again!" Kay bellowed at Gawain's back. Gawain smirked and rounded on Kay once more, sword connecting with the metal of Kay's shield and shooting sparks into the air between them. Kay lunged for Gawain again, only to connect with the steel of Gawain's dueling sword.

"You'll have to be faster," Gawain said, shoving Kay back with a quick pressure to his blades. They had been at this for hours. He had to hand it to Kay, the man was a determined fighter and he was going to keep dueling into one of them fell over from exhaustion. Usually, Gawain would've given Kay some sort of solace in feigning fatigue, but not today.

Today he felt indestructible. He could feel the burn of his overworked muscles and the cling of his sweat-drenched clothes to his equally sweaty body, but couldn't seem to get his mind to recognize his body's lethargy. He just felt bloody fantastic!

It almost didn't matter that he had woken to an empty bed this morning. Almost, but not quite. He still hadn't found Awen today, but his mental disconnect kept him from dwelling on the subject for too long.

"Damn it!" Kay swore under his breath, pulling Gawain from his inner musings, "again!"

"Enough, Kay. You'll run yourself ragged. Let's just call it a day and you can beat me into the dirt tomorrow." Gawain said, sheathing his baldes.

"You best believe I will!" Kay said with a huff.

Gawai chuckled and walked to the water basin to splash some of the down-right cold water onto his over-heated skin.

Before he could register the motion, an arrow was embedded in the basin next to his right hand.

Gawain's whole body jerked at the suddenness of the action and he shot his gaze to the right; half-expecting to see Kay there, bow in hand, smile wide on his face for finally getting the better of Gawain today. What he found instead was Kay, Ulfius, and Brastias staring, stupidly at the balcony overlooking the courtyard and the moron named Drustran clapping and chuckling at the display. Gawain ignored the trainee and followed the line of sight of his fellow knights to find Awen perched precariously on the balcony, bow in hand, smile wide on her face because she knew she had just gotten the better of him.

It shouldn't have been flirtatious, and with anyone else it wouldn't have been, but it really was and Gawain found himself grinning back at her. Awen snapped her teeth at him in a blood thirsty manner, which against all reason made his cock twitch painfully, before she sprinted along the stones and disappeared beyond the roofline. Gawain smiled to himself and turned to find the very amused faces of his comrades. All Gawain could manage was a sigh before the peals of laughter tore through the courtyard.

.

Heavy breathing and palms slick with sweat pawing at the clothes shielding the modesty that each so desperately wish to shed; but beneath the lust-fueled fog that powered their actions was the small sliver of knowledge that halted them from progressing any farther than this…but god help him, it was barely enough.

He felt the breath of her sigh as it slid over his neck like the caress of her fingertips over his shoulder blade. He shivered, completely beside himself in the moment, and kissed his way back up to her neck. She smiled her secret smile that she shared only with him, and kissed him hard when his mouth closed over hers once again.

"Kay? They're serving lunch in the dining hall today, instead of the kitchens. Apparently, Merlin thinks we should get more use out of the Great Hall of Camelot. Bloody waste of time if you ask me…." Brastias trailed off as we moved away from Kay's door to tell Ulfius on the floor below.

Bridget smiled at the bright red flush that crept over Kay's neck and cheeks, knowing that a similar blush must be gracing her features. What they were doing was stupid and risky on so many levels, but the more they tried to fight it, the more often it seemed to happen. At the rate they were going, they would be found out by the end of the day…but with the warmth of Kay's calloused hands still seeping through her dress at her hips and the taste of him still wet on her lips, Bridget couldn't quite get herself to care.

Kay chuckled and pulled away from Bridget, just far enough to straighten his clothing, before he came forward again and encircled her with his arms, leaning his forehead to hers.

"This is all your fault, you know." Kay teased and nudged her nose with his. Bridget smiled and gave him a small kiss before disentangling herself from his arms and pulling the door open to walk down to the dining hall; only to stop short at the face of a very disgruntled looking Awen muttering under her breath in Pict. Awen barely paused when she saw Kay's shocked face behind Bridget's flushed neck and shoulders, but decided she should probably acknowledge them since they seemed to be waiting for her to say something.

"Bridge, new something with lips?" Awen asked.

Bridget seemed to jolt out of her stupor with a twitch and elbowed Kay in the stomach to get him to close his mouth or at least find some useful employment. Kay blushed a deeper shade of red and scurried past Bridget and Awen towards the dining hall.

"Umm…no, Awen. I haven't done anything new with my mouth. Why do you ask?" Bridget queried, bringing a hand to her mouth defensively. But Awen just shrugged and started walking down the stairs with Bridget as they had done a dozen times before times before, muttering about some hunting nonsense and trying to disentangle her arrows from those of Camelot in her quiver.

"I no know what new with lips, Bridge, but look good for you." Awen continued when they were sitting next to Gwen with their plates piled high with food; as though the conversation had never ended in Awen's mind. Bridget's food came back up her throat with a cough and Gwen glanced back and forth between them like they were both crazy.

"I'm not sure if I want to know what that comment was about," Arthur said as he joined the ladies at their table. Bridget and Awen knew enough about their King to understand that if Arthur was sitting at the ladies table, it was not to enjoy the pleasure of their company and excused themselves to join the men.

"Ahhh, ladies, thank you for joining us! We were just trying to convince Merlin here that Awen is a better shot than Gawain…" Brastias said around a mouthful of roast lamb which he flung around like a wand while gesturing to Gawain and Awen.

Much to Gawain's surprise, Awen made comment about being a superior archer, but simply looked back to Bridget, who had situated herself at the end of the table next to Kay.

"So no thing new?" Awen asked, clearly puzzled over something Bridget had said earlier. Bridget blushed and shook her head, suddenly very engrossed with the process of picking apart the food in front of her.

Awen slapped Gawain on the shoulder and pointed at Bridget's mouth.

"Bridge's new lips are good, yes?" Awen said, clearly proud of herself for the observation and wanting recognition.

Kay choked on his roast, Bridget jerked so violently that she sent her plate crashing to the floor, and the rest of the men were so stunned by the display that they sat completely still as though wondering whether or not to laugh or move away from the table before anyone took notice of their absence. Gawain was the first to recover and quickly looked around to see who else would be the first to comment, but only found the smirking face of Merlin that clearly said he had foreseen this incident from the moment he awoke this morning. Before Gawain could work up a smart reply, Awen started giggling. Not just a chuckle or a laugh, but a small, little, girlish giggle that set off the whole table and before too much longer, the whole set of warriors was laughing at the odd visual of Kay and Bridget's discomfort, whether warranted or not.

Gawain found himself laughing more at the sounds Awen was emitting than the fact that Awen had caused one of Camelot's most reclusive couples to become so befuddled that their facades slipped and they had a small breakdown in public. Everyone in the castle knew about the budding romance of Arthur's brother and Gwen's cousin, but none felt the need to disrupt such a union with such a small thing as social precedence. They were happy. The warriors understood that and nothing else need apply. If only there were a way to make Kay understand that without telling him that they knew, outright.

.

The sun had long since made it's disappearance from the evening sky and she hadn't come back to the room yet. It wasn't worrying him. Really, it wasn't. She was an extremely capable warrior. She could take care of herself. But where on earth was she? Not that he was worried. Because he wasn't. But maybe he should go take a look around…just on the off-chance that she had gotten into some sort of trouble. Afterall, Sebast had escaped the make-shift barracks the Picts had secured him in and could be lurking anywhere.

It took him nearly an hour before he thought to look for Awen in the stables and by the time he walked down through the bracing wind, he was practically frozen through; but find her, he did.

"It's getting cold Awen, you should probably head back up to the Castle." Gawain said quietly when he found her tying some old blankets around Mariah's girth in an attempt to keep her warm. Awen shot him an unappreciative look and went back to her work, ignoring him completely.

Gawain sighed and settled himself down onto the blanket atop the hay next to the small stall, realizing that there was no way he was going to be able drag Awen away from the mare until she was satisfied that Mariah was warm. Awen tapped the top of his head over the stall door and he looked up to find her staring intently at the blanket he was currently sitting on. Gawain let go a small chuckle and rearranged himself on the hay, giving her the blanket and receiving a small hum of appreciation in response. Gawain leaned his head back against the stall frame and tried very hard to not concentrate on the girl humming to herself in the stall behind him while she secured blankets onto a mentally crippled mare; but, of course, the more he tried to avoid the subject, the more he thought about it.

She seemed to invade every stray thought in his mind. He had been trying to pin it down all day; what it was about her that he found so captivating. She was very obviously beautiful, but that wasn't it. It wasn't that she was a capable warrior, although that was most definitely a contributing factor. It wasn't just repeated exposure to her, day in and day out that made her so alluring; so what was it? Perhaps she had a quality about her that didn't have a name.

Gawain smiled to himself. It had taken him a whole day of pondering to figure out that what inexplicitly drew him to his wife was an unnamed quality that she, alone, possessed.

He sincerely hoped it was the cold that was making him so slow in matters concerning Awen and not some sort of mental lapse.

Gawain was so wrapped in his thoughts that he didn't hear Awen hop over the stall door and land gracefully beside him; so when her fingertips traced his still smiling lips, he jumped about a foot and made a humph-ing noise, close to a squeal.

Awen smiled at him and mocked him with a squeaking noise of her own before giving him a small shove and settling into the hay beside him. Gawain tried to surpress the blush that stained his cheeks from his embarrassment, but gave her a small, good-natured shove back before settling an arm about her shoulders and mentally willing his heart to slow down, least she hear it's increased beat. The last time he had sat this close to her had been in the early hours of the morning…and she had just finished jerking him off.

Before he could stop himself, Gawain had the memory in the forefront of his mind and had to pull his knees up to chest to hide the evidence of such thoughts.

He had half a mind to just stretch his legs out in front of him and let her explore to her heart's content, but Gawain did not consider himself a selfish lover. He may not have had a woman in many months, but he would damn well give her as many climaxes as he could before she was reintroduced to his manhood. The thought alone made his cock harden and throb uncomfortably between in bent legs.

Awen shifted next into his side, as though sensing his discomfort.

"Gawain?" Awen asked, turning his head towards hers so that he could not escape the obvious question in her eyes.

"I'm fine," Gawain said in a strained voice, "Are you cold?"

"No. Hay is fine. Can I stay?" Awen asked with a pleading expression. Unable to resisit, Gawain nodded. He had hoped to get her back to their room and start what he had hoped to accomplish yesterday; but if this is what Awen wanted, then this is what Awen would get. What a tamed dog was turning out to be, he thought to himself sourly…until Awen laid herself flat on the hay and dragged him down into the prickly mass, pulling his head to her chest.

Gawain knew that she had no inkling as to the significance of having a man's face on her breast and he had half a mind to show her why it was always a good idea to do so, but her breath was warm across his forehead and her strong heartbeat a soothing lullaby. Before he knew it, they had fallen asleep in the hay of the stables.

.

Gulcan was restless. He was always restless during windy weather and even more so during the cold months. If he didn't escape this stone fortress, he feared his head might devour him.

Excusing himself from the company of the wizard and the boy-king, Gulcan made his way to the stables with an armload of blankets.

Horses were one of the few creatures that could calm a man's frazzled nerves. The wisest of creatures always knew when a man was on edge and knew that sometimes he just needed a silent presence to get him though a fit of restlessness.

The horses would do for now, but Gulcan knew that his mood was only going to compound over time if he didn't find some sort of outlet for it. All these people and conditions of the fortress of Camelot was starting to eat at his sense of calm. He was surprised that Hardte was adapting so well. He was even more surprised at how well Awen was settling in. He had expected her complaints to be a never-ending stream that would drive them all to madness, but she had become seemingly at ease at the place she had once referred to as her prison. He knew it had nothing to do with the place itself and everything to do with the man who had made it a home for her, but that was not something that had surprised him at all…he had just expected to hear more about it from the complaints of a certain Pict Princess.

When they had come to the decision to join forces with Camelot, it was Gulcan who had suggested the marriage proposal to the counsel. At first, there had been immediate unrest, but after seeing the wisdom of forming such a sacred alliance, the decision had been made…absent Awen's consent. Looking back now, that is one of the many things Gulcan regrets about their current situation.

He wishes he could have told her of the men of Camelot. He wishes he could have told her of the great warrior he knew would be the first choice of her suitors. He wishes he could've told her that if Gawain had not been selected right away, he would've asked Hardte to petition for the warrior. He wishes he could've told her how much he admires the warrior that she now calls husband. He wishes he could've told her how honorable Gawain was and how she should fear nothing from him.

He wishes he could tell Awen that the reason Gawain is a warrior is because his father was a warrior and his mother used to tell him stories of his father's battles when he was but a babe in his crib and has nothing to do with the war-mongering ways of her forefathers.

He wishes she could tell him how much his father loved his mother and how much it killed him to be dragged from her at the hands of a Pict overlord that Hardte called father.

He wishes she could tell him of the many years he fought to get back to Gawain's mother.

He wishes she could tell him of the day his father found his mother's rapist and killed him with such glee that it sent him through the ranks of the Pict army, from slave to counsel member.

He wishes she could tell him of the years his father spent raising a girl who's mother was torn from this world the same way his mother had been.

He wishes she could tell him how overcome his father was to hear that he was now a knight under the new King Arthur.

Most of all, He wishes that Awen could tell Gawain how proud his father is of the man he has become.

Gulcan doesn't know when he started crying, but by the time he reaches the stable door he is sobbing, silently into the howling winds that take his tears east into the ocean. An undeterminable amount of time passes before Gulcan has collected himself enough to face the all-knowing eyes of the horses; but when he pushes past the door into the cool wind-less air of the stables, he finds Awen and Gawain, curled around each other, shivering in the chill that the hay has not been able to ward off.

Gulcan smiles, beside himself with unnamed elation that causes tears to spring to his ears again. He pushes the tears away with a shaky hand and moves forward with his arm full of blankets and carefully piles them atop the slumbering couple.

Awen immediately snuggles deep into the furs; the way she always has. Gawain makes a noise of discontent at her moving about and pushes his face deeper into the crevice between her breasts before a light snore escapes him.

Gulcan stands, knowing he has stolen a very private moment from one of Camelot's most famous couples, but cannot bring himself to stop the smile that takes residence on his lips as he leaves them to their retreat in the stables.

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><p>OMGosh! I didn't! oh wait, yes, I did! I went there! What do we think? Too sentimental? Too clichéd? Too too? Lemme know! Hit that little bluereview button down there and tell me your thoughts! For I must have them to survive…<p> 


	12. Tendencies

Je me suis desolate! There were soooo many mistakes in the last chapter that I didn't realize were there until I was rereading the posted edition! Gulcan can apparently cry from his ears…isn't that a wonderful trick for a dinner party? Good gawd. But those mistakes aside, I thank you all for your reviews and I'm glad I didn't lose you in the time between updates:) I do apologize for the brevity of this chapter, but I thought it best to give you something to gnaw on while I get the really good stuff ready for chapter 13 ;) I have a thing for the number thirteen, so just be ready.

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><p>Disclaimer, I still don't own anything, or I would've financed a second season.<p>

Chapter 12

"What do you mean, he's missing?" Arthur asked angrily. He considered himself a patient man, but even patient men had their limits when it came to the treatment of men who had made attempt on their lives.

"That usually means the person in question is missing…" Merlin drawled as he cut off another slice of apple, "Don't trouble yourself, Arthur, I'm sure he'll turn up sooner or later."

Arthur turned to see the grin stretched comically wide across Merlin's face before sighing and facing the Pict king once more. If Merlin said the boy would show up, then the boy would show. Arthur just wished it was to his advantage.

"Alright. For the time being, we will let the matter drop, but if this boy causes mischief, I will be holding you responsible, Hardte. You did promise his containment."

"Of course. There is another issue, milord…." Gulcan said in Hardte's stead. Arthur gestured for him to proceed.

" You see, there were more than one set of tracks leading away from the chosen area of Sebast's trial. We believe that Sebast was not alone in his escape. Which would mean that someone now harbors the fugitive who made attempt on your life."

Arthur puzzled over the news for a moment before looking to Merlin for some sort of inclination as to what he should do with the information, but found his smirk still in place. Sighing again, Arthur looked back Gulcan and responded that they would do nothing about the matter until it proved to be a problem and dismissed the populous of his court.

"Sooo…it would seem that somebody likes the idea of seeing you dead. I wonder who on earth that could be…" Merlin purred before chomping down on another apple slice.

"She has no power amongst the people, Merlin. What on earth could she possibly do? A woman pregnant with a bastard child, disgraced, and nameless…she will find the world unkind to such a woman." Arthur responded, albeit a bit too harshly.

"She is no longer pregnant. She gave birth to a son with blonde hair and blue eyes and if you had been keeping an eye on her as I had asked you to do, you would've known that," Merlin said, rising from his chair and stretching to his full height, towering over Arthur, "And if you had been watching her as I asked you, you would know the dissent amongst her small and poorly paid staff and how easily information can be bought from them. You would also know that she is the one now housing the Pict boy who made attempt on your life. Lastly, if you had been watching her as I asked you to, you would know that she was a paid mercenary in her employ that would be of great value if he were to suddenly switch employers to someone like…oh…let's say Arthur, the king of Camelot." Merlin's voice had gotten deceptively quiet at the end of his rant and all the more lethal because of it. Arthur flinched as though he'd been struck when the last word left Merlin's lips.

"I'll send Kay and Gawain to scout it out immediately…"

"Will you now? Might be a bit late for that. I just told you everything they would find," Merlin walked a slow circle around Arthur and leaned forward slightly, over Arthur's shoulder before saying, " Next time I tell you to watch someone of interest, I suggest you do it."

Arthur turned to respond, but encountered nothing but the empty space of the great hall.

Vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv.

"We're going to get caught." Bridget breathed in a scandalized whisper.

"Only if you keep talking," Kay said against the skin of her throat as he kissed his way down towards her cleavage.

"How did you even –pant- know this was here?"

"An inkling."

Bridget pulled on Kay's hair to get his full attention. With a n audible sigh, Kay pulled back and looked at her determined expression.

"An inkling? You better tell me right now, or I swear…"

"I've been looking for something like it for a while…."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I just meant that I've been looking for somewhere that was out in the open, but somewhere it would be near impossible to be caught…just in case…" Kay turned away sheepishly, until Bridget's palm against his cheek brought him back.

"You've been actively searching for a place for us to meet?" Kay could do nothing but nod. Bridget smiled and threw her arms about his neck.

"Well done, champion of Camelot," Bridget said, looking around the copse of trees surrounding the ice-cold water of the lake in front of her, "Well done, indeed."

Kay smiled as Bridget kissed down his throat and placed a small nip on his adam's apple, just the way he liked, and made a mental note to thank Gawain for the location tip later.

.

_He was sitting so close to the fire, he was practically in it. His face and chest were flushed from the heat of the roaring flames, but still he didn't move. He didn't stir when she walked forward and crouched behind him, placing her hands around the back of the wide column of his neck; letting the cool of her hands seep into the burning heat of the skin at his nape. It wasn't until she ran her hands down the line of his vertebrae and let one of her hands settle in the valley between his wide shoulder blades that he made any motion at all. He rolled his shoulders and leaned his overheated skin into her touch, as shamelessly as a cat seeking attention._

_Awen smiled to herself and moved her hand lower, pressing her palm firmly into the dip of his spine. Gawain made a deep noise in the back of his throat that made Awen's fingers curl. Gawain's groan turned into a whine when she brought her nails back up to his shoulders, leaving thin lines of red skin in their wake that Gawain seemed to relish. _

_Awen's fingertips traced over the warm muscles of Gawain's shoulders and smoothed over the planes of his chest, settling against the raised muscles of his abdomen. Awen laid her cheek against Gawain's shoulder, feeling the heat of his skin sear her own. His head dropped back against the space between Awen's neck and shoulder and covered the hands resting against his stomach with one of his own. _

_Awen moved from her crouch and placed her knees down on either side of Gawain's seated hips and leant her front into his bare back, sighing at the immediate warmth that wove its way through her frame. Gawain's breath left him in a huff and squirmed closer to Awen's cool skin. Even though Awen had crushed herself flush to Gawain, she wanted him closer. She wanted his over-heated skin against hers. Not just against, but in; she wanted to consume him. She wanted to crawl under his skin and let herself seep into him to the point where they were no longer discernable from one another._

_Awen ran her lips over the skin of Gawain's shoulder and neck as he all but purred into the air around them. Without warning, Gawain grabbed one of Awen's arms and pulled her around his body to sprawl over his folded legs. Awen was about to growl in protest when Gawain slanted his mouth over hers with a force that almost hurt. Awen barely had enough time to gasp when Gawain pulled away from her briefly to push her down into the furs beneath her and push his own weight down on top of her. It was a surprisingly pleasant weight pinning her to the floor and his hot skin slid against her exposed stomach making her insides shudder with an anticipation she couldn't name. _

_Awen pulled Gawain back down to her by his hair and framed his hips with her legs. Awen couldn't stop the moan pulled from her throat as Gawain placed a small nip on her lower lip. Awen circled her legs around Gawain's waist keeping him and his warm skin firmly in place. Gawain let a small groan slip from his mouth into Awens and his hips instinctively pistoned forward, grinding himself into her. _

_Awen's head fell back with a gasp at the heat that shot through her whole body with the slight movement of Gawain's hips. It was similar to when he had slid his pelvis against hers when he had kissed her against the wall, but this was an entirely new sensation; far more intense. _

_Awen curled her leg around Gawain's hips, effectively locking him in place as she pushed her hips into his again; squirming feverishly at the renewed heat slithering up through her stomach. Gawain's head fell to her shoulder with a long, low groan as his hips ground into hers involuntarily. Awen continued to push herself against Gawain's hardness in an almost desperate manner; her breath leaving her in shallow pants. She didn't know what it was, but whatever this heat winding through her limbs was doing to her…it was building…and burning…and it made her feel alive. Wanton. Vital. Whatever it was. She wanted more of it…_

Awen was grinding against his leg her in sleep.

Awen was grinding against his fucking leg in her fucking sleep.

And not just a simple I'm-rearranging-my-limbs grind, oh no. She was gyrating against him so desperately that it bordered on violence. And he loved it. Every unconscious second of it.

Part of him wanted to just let her go and watch her face contort with pleasure as she rocked herself too orgasm, but another, baser part of him wouldn't allow her first orgasm to be induced by any other than himself (even if he was the catalyst).

_It was allusive. Whatever the precipice she meant to throw herself off of whenever his hips merged with hers was always out of reach. It was maddening. It was exciting. It was pleasure and pain. It made her skin crawl and dew with perspiration, but she still couldn't reach that end she knew she was missing._

"_Awen." Gawain purred into her ear. _

_She growled. It had almost been enough, but not quite. Damn him._

"_Awen." Gawain said with a little more force._

_What was wrong with him? Couldn't he just shut his mouth and help her a little? Instead, he seemed to be removing himself from the space between her hips. She whimpered._

"Awen!"

She woke with a start. Her skin felt slick and the light around her too bright in contrast to her dream. Her thighs ached and there was a warm dampness she felt sliding against the skin between her legs when she shifted. Beneath her, Gawain let loose a deep chuckle that she felt vibrate throughout her whole being. She shivered involuntarily and looked down his grinning face.

"Good dream, I take it?" Gawain muttered slyly with a raise of his eyebrow.

Without further warning, Awen attacked Gawain's mouth with her own, effectively pinning him to the ground and stopping that smirk from growing any wider.

To say Gawain was surprised was an understatement of gross proportions, but he wasn't about to let her all-too-welcome ambush go to waste. Gawain slid a hand behind Awen's head, locking her mouth against his and let his other hand roam up the smooth length of her leg; settling on the leather covering the crease where her thigh met her body.

Awen let loose a hoarse moan into Gawain's mouth and he felt his eyes all but roll back into his head. He felt sure he was dying when Awen undulated her hips ever so slightly against his own. Sweat began to form across Gawain's skin and he felt as if he were on fire. The air was too thick, or his lungs were insufficient, or Awen's skin too hot, or whatever the reason, Gawain felt himself suffocating. Instead of pulling back for air, Gawain found himself pushing closer to her; hips to hips, chest to chest, mouth to mouth. He wanted to consume her.

Awen moaned into Gawain's mouth again when his hips slid against hers, moving the hard length of him against the heated flesh between her thighs. This was what she wanted. The pressure that was ever present in her dream was building within her again and Awen wanted it. She shifted her hips against Gawains again and felt the shot of pleasure slither up her spine, quick as lightning. Awen growled as Gawain groaned against her mouth. Why was it so fleeting? She wanted it to last. Awen ground her hips into Gawain's with more force. Gawain pulled from her lips with a gasp and narrowed his over-dilated eyes at her. Awen glared right back and ground against him again, gasping as the pleasure coiled in the pit of her stomach. Forgoing any and all ceremony for such an event, Gawain untied the laces of Awen's trews and slid a hand between the leathers and the tight space of their hips. It was an odd sensation to be able to feel both the slick, wet heat of Awen's inflamed sex and his own hardened cock through the leathers, but the sharp bite of Awen's nails scoring the skin of his neck and her gasp still fresh upon his mouth made the experience something akin to the best thing that ever happened to him up to that point.

Gawain smirked against her throat as he slid his fingertips through the slick folds of her sex, searching out the hardened patch of nerves that would give her what she so wantonly asked for. Gawain ran his tongue over a scar that curved over the space between her neck and shoulder and listened for her reaction as he pressed a finger against her clit. Her response didn't disappoint and if Gawain hadn't been aroused before, he wouldn't have stood a chance against the strangled intake of air she had just produced. It was such a feminine noise and so much _more_ than anything a whore could scream out into the night. Gawain pressed against her once more and shivered when his name left her lips on a strangled moan. Before his lust-fogged brain could register the motion, Awen was grinding against him, panting into his ear, driving him near insane. Every brush of her thighs against him sent a rush of tingling anticipation through him that made him ache so badly. He wanted nothing more than to sink inside the slick heat of her sex and lose himself in her. To thrust into her until they were both too sated to walk or think. To feel her limbs wrapped around him while they moved, _ached_ together.

_Time and place_, his mind whispered and Gawain growled aloud. As much as he hated it, he would not take Awen on the floor of a barn. He would give her what she wanted, what she deserved, but he would not pound inside her until her voice when hoarse from screaming. Yet.

Awen felt the pressure in the pit of her stomach climbing up her spine in such a wonderfully slow manner that it made her toes curl and her voice quake. She thought she might be talking, but couldn't quite hear herself say the words. Her thighs ached from the tightness between them and her grip around Gawain's neck might actually be strangling him, but she was so close to whatever was beyond this delicious pressure that she could almost taste it. Gawain placed an opened mouthed kiss on the side of her neck and moaned her name so closely against her skin that she could feel the volume of his voice vibrate through her frame. With an unexpected intensity, the pressure in Awen's lower stomach split open and rushed through her body like the crashing waves of the ocean.

Gawain watched Awen's face as her orgasm overtook her. She was absolutely resplendent. Her brows furrowed, her mouth opened on a moan that caught in her throat, and her head thrown back so that her hair dusted over his thighs as she rode out every quivering jolt of pleasure that shot through her. Then her body finally stopped shaking and her death grip on his neck loosened, the most beautiful smile he had ever beheld took possession of her face and she leaned her forehead against his, letting her body sag against his. Gawain was acutely aware of the fact that his hand was still between her legs feeling every pulse of her still wet sex against his palm and that he was still a very aroused male with a woman he had just sated atop him, but he couldn't get his brain to process any stimuli surrounding him. He couldn't get the vision of Awen's expression of complete ecstasy from his mind. He was never going to be able to look at this wonderful, wanton, warrior woman he called wife the same way ever again. Things would never be the same again. Just a swell of panic slithered up Gawain's throat at the thought of her reaction to such change, Awen pulled back from Gawain's forehead and smiled, leaning back down to place a coy kiss on his lips; letting her tongue slip past his lips just as easily as her hand slipped underneath his trousers. Gawain groaned into her mouth when her small, cool hand slid around his length and smiled against her lips when she squealed as he pressed the heel of his hand between her legs.

No, he thought with a smile, things would never be the same.

.

"I still don't understand. Why do we need to drug her, again? She's a sorceress, do we even know that this will work?" Vivien asked in a hushed tone as Tristan dumped the contents of a small leather pouch over Morgan's evening meal.

"I think you might be suffering from a very severe case of 'alarmism', would you like to know the cure?" Tristan said in her usual husky voice and raised eyebrow.

"I'm just saying that you have not dealt with a woman like Morgan before. You do not know that this will work and if it doesn't, I will be blamed for the attempt," Vivien hissed.

"Fucking. Good, old, out-in-the-open, scream until you're hoarse, buck until your brains run out your ears fucking. That's the cure. Not that you asked…"Tristan said as he pulled the spoon from Vivien's hand and starting mixing the solution into the broth.

"What if it does work and we leave! Then who will care for Mordred? You said yourself that you have been informing Merlin of Morgan's status, so you then will be his informant when we leave? Why can we not wait for a day before we act? We must think about this…."

"I've always been an advocate for fucking outside. Gimme a woman who will take me outside in the mud and rain and I'm a sated man. You strike me as more of a under the sheets in the dead of night so as not to be caught type of woman. Not usually what I'd search out for a bed mate, but you are in desperate need, so I'll make an exception," Tristan drawled on.

"Do you take nothing seriously, Tristan? This is not just your life at stakeeeeeee," Vivien squeaked as Tristan grabbed her by the waist and lifted her onto the table, stepping between the space of her thighs.

"Get off me, oaf!"

Tristan caught both of Vivien's hands into one of his and settled the other on her hip to stop her well-aimed kicks.

"Listen, tease, I am not the only one in this house selling information to the wizard. I know this potion will work, because it was given to me by Merlin. Mordred is Morgan's child and she can be her own wet nurse for a while. We cannot wait, because with every new dawn we draw closer to the time when our usefulness out and we no longer serve a purpose to Camelot. Now, if you would be a dear and go take Morgan her meal, you ca kiss the brat goodbye and we can leave this wretched place _before_ she wakes again." With that, Tristan stepped back and handed Vivien the bowl of broth and gestured towards the hallway.

Vivien glared at Tristan as she passed, but as soon as her back was to him, she felt the stern smack of his hand against her backside. She turned to give his grinning face a piece of her mind, but was interrupted by Morgan's shrill 'Vivien' being called down the hall.

As soon as she was out of hearing range, Tristan chuckled to himself and went about packing the essentials they would need from the kitchen.

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><p>So…I'm a tease…but am I a good tease? Lemme know! Click that little review button and tell me what you thought. Also, having some setting trouble for the inevitable love scene…any suggestions? Keep in mind, it is still very cold in the story, so go wild…but not too wild;)<p> 


	13. Sanctuary

There is absolutely no excuse for the delay in this chapter and I sincerely hope I didn't lose any of you lovely readers in the transition, but this was just such a pain! I spent months staring at the beginning of a smut scene and just got blocked! I've read enough smut to be thoroughly debauched, but writing it? It's miserably tough. I don't know how romance novelists are able to pump out loves scenes without making them sound either too clinical or cheesy… anywho, here goes.

If I owned anything, this show would be filming a second season :(

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><p>Chapter 13<p>

"Why must we keep off the roads?" Vivien whispered, smacking yet another low-hanging branch out of her way, "We are not criminals."

Tristan stopped so abruptly that Vivien ran into the seemingly enormous expanse of his back. He spoke without turning to face her.

"Criminals, my dear Vivien? If you are not a criminal, then I do not know who is. You are a slave who has abandoned her child-rearing mistress in the dead of night…" Tristan started before Vivien smacked him upside the head and hushed him.

"Did you just hush me, woman?"

"Shh! Don't you hear that?" Vivien whispered furiously before slapping a hand over his mouth.

Grinning beneath her slender fingers, Tristan gently removed her hand from his lips before he did something that 'crossed the line' in her precious book of morals and instead listened to the obviously false bird calls. What was it call again? Hawk? Mockingbird? Damn it all…Swallow! That was it!

Keeping his fingers loosely threaded with Viviens, he made a soft coo into the night above Vivien's head. Before Vivien could make the smart mouthed retort he could see forming on her ridiculously lush lips, Kay emerged from the shadows; arrow notched and aimed directly at Tristan's family jewels. Damn Kay for knowing he'd rather take an arrow to the skull.

"Well took you long enough! We've been on Arthur's land for nigh on an hour now, you lazy cow! Where was the welcoming party I requested?" Tristan teased while Vivien clawed at his arm, trying to make him hush.

Kay smirked and lowered his bow.

"Well Arthur mentioned something about waiting for you naked on a bearskin, but I didn't think you'd want this lovely creature to ruin our fun…so the arrow to the balls seemed second best, in my opinion."

Tristan gave a hearty laugh and gave Vivien's blushed cheek a pat before walking over to embrace Kay. It had been far too long since he had seen or fought with or beside this young man. Damn shame his rather ridiculous brother turned out to be of royal blood. Tristan had always favored Kay over Arthur, but he didn't decide who's blood was worthy of a crown, so he was content to take the role of spy for Kay's dumpy (royal) brother.

It wasn't so much that he disliked Arthur. Quite the opposite; he was able to scramble some of the most prized fighters on this rock of an island to fight under his colors (the ever honorable Gawain, included. From what Tristan had heard, Gawain had a fair ration of mockery headed his way for certain nuptials that Tristan was not invited to). Tristan respected him, but he knew far too much about Arthur (and his family) to ever see him as a superior. Tristan suspected this was going to be a problem when he came to Camelot; whether it be that he openly mocked the new king, or disobeyed a direct order, he just knew he was going to be in trouble before he'd even settled in.

That was half of his reasoning behind bringing Vivien to Camelot. She might work as a balm for Tristan's (in all possibility) many transgressions against the King. That… and he had an odd addiction to inked markings that made her skin something of a fantasy breathed into glorious flesh and bone.

"So I suppose this is the part where I surrender my visible weapons and pledge fealty to your little brother?" Tristan quipped, breaking his inner reverie to address his fellow swordsman. Kay sighed before answering.

"First of all, Arthur is the King now, and you must remember to address him as such. Second, I wouldn't believe a word of your pledge of fealty to anyone, much less my brother. Last, if I believed you would surrender any of your weapons I would've already asked, but since I know I would have to wrestle them out of your cold lifeless hands, let's just skip that part and get out of this bloody cold before this poor lady freezes to death."

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><p><em>He isn't terribly good at archery<em>, Gulcan thought as he watched Awen change Gawain's firing stance yet again.

"Now you're just embarrassing yourself, Gawain! Can't you just let us watch her kick your arse into the dirt again and be done with it?" The one called Tristan yelled from the stool beside the water basin.

Gulcan didn't know what to think of this newcomer, but he had an easy countenance and Arthur's men seemed to trust him enough, despite his six month absence from their ranks. Gulcan knew better than to make his interest in Arthur's warriors known, so he would let time tell him if Tristan was to be trusted or not. In the meantime, Gulcan was more than content to watch Gawain try to beat Awen's near perfect archery skills and chuckle with Arthur's ranks when Gawain failed and Awen smacked him upside the head and corrected his stance over and over again.

Gulcan laughed when Awen ripped the bow from Gawain's grip and pushed him out of the way to fire another arrow dead centre. She smirked at his grimace and danced circles around his footwork. Gawain may have superior swordplay to Awen, but she was mighty quick and Gawain had much to learn if he wished to best her speed. Gulcan would know; he trained her.

Gawain finally managed to get an arm looped around Awen's middle and fell backwards, knocking both of them to the dirt of the training ring's floor. Not the most sophisticated of maneuvers, but efficient. It wouldn't be enough to hold Awen down for long, but Gulcan was sure Gawain knew as much. Gulcan turned from the fanfare and made his way down to the kitchens where he knew Hardte would be harassing the cooks for more salted meats.

As if by design, Gulcan heard Hardte yell an obscenity in Pict at a very frightened looking kitchen hand. Gulcan made to restrain his King, but found he was beat to the task by the strange, dark-skinned girl that had traveled with Tristan.

The rumors surrounding her were thick and murky. Gulcan could not distinguish truth from lies where she was concerned; he had heard she was a sorceress' assistant, that she was a spy for Arthur's deceitful sister, that she was Tristan's mistress and he was Morgan's spy. Gulcan found himself lost in the politics of Arthur's court, but the girl seemed sincere enough. She was quiet, kept to herself, didn't have any noticeable perchance for witchcraft and that was enough to satisfy Gulcan.

The dark-skinned girl tugged gently on Hardte's arm and handed him a portion of salted sheep flank. Gulcan couldn't see Hardte's face, but he imagined a look of surprise on the hardened warrior's face and let loose a small chuckle that led all onlooking parties to stare at Gulcan. He shrugged and walked to Hardte to steer him to the doorway and away from prying eyes.

"Have you seen Awen lately, my King?" Gulcan queried in Pict.

Hardte gave Gulcan an odd look before nodding.

"She doesn't appear to be unhappy. It would seem that our plan to use my daughter as a bargaining chip has not been all for not. We have destroyed OldWolfe and will soon have no use of this Camelot. She will be happy to stay here and keep us informed…"

"You not think to abandon Camelot after you've sworn fealty to the king, do you?" Gulcan interrupted much to Hardte's surprise.

"Well, of course I do. This is not the place for Picts, Gulcan. We belong out in the forests where our forefathers reigned. We do not belong in this stone fortress anymore than Arthur deserves to be king of it."

"Hardte…"

"No, Gulcan," Hardte said as he turned towards his second in command, "It has been decided. The men will rest easier away from these walls. We will fight for the puny, boy-king when he calls, but we will not stay in this stone cage forever. I would rather burn it to the ground."

"And what of Awen, Hardte? She was to lead your clan when she came of age and now you are going to abandon her in the stone fortress you so desperately hope to escape? Have you forgotten she is your only kin? She…"

"Enough, Gulcan! Enough." Hardte all but yelled and turned from his friend to retire to outlying forest.

Gulcan watched him go, filled with something near hatred and an overwhelming sense of disappointment. He knew Hardte. He knew how he hated this place and his thoughts on the boy king. He knew that Hardte would burn Camelot to its foundations before he'd stayed another month, but Gulcan had expected Hardte to do something infinitely less stupid than leaving his only child in the castle he had deserted. It wasn't that he feared Arthur's retaliation, because he knew Hardte would stick to his word and come to Camelot's aid when summoned. He feared Awen's reaction. She would be filled with hate; much more so than the young girl who screamed revenge for her mother's death. Gulcan had seen the pain she had barely riened in long enough to learn discipline. He had seen, first-hand, how her actions were dictated by her rage. Gulcan knew what her anger would make her capable of, but Gawain didn't and Gulcan didn't know enough about his son to know if he would stand by her while she cursed her father into the abyss, or if he would grow tired of her antics and leave her to her own devices in a castle filled with people not her own.

Gulcan very honestly doubted Gawain to by the type of man to abandon anything. If he was being honest with himself, he knew he didn't really fear Awen's anger so much as his own loss. If Hardte withdrew from Camelot, Hardte would be forced to follow by his rank in Hardte's army. If Hardte withdrew, Gulcan would have to not only abandon Awen, he would have to abandon Gawain…again.

The thought alone made Gulcan's throat constrict and his chest ache. Was leaving his boy once not punishment enough for his sins?

"Will he leave?"came a throaty, feminine voice behind him.

Gulcan turned to find the dark skinned girl that had arrived with Tristan looking at him with wide eyes.

"You speak Pict?" Gulcan asked in Hardte's language. The young woman nodded and repeated her question in Pict.

"Yes, I believe he will," Gulcan responded in English. He didn't know why, but he suspected that if there was ever a girl to start circulating a tale around Camelot, it would be this one who arrived with the bold and brash Tristan. Seeing as his time was limited here at Camelot, Gulcan decided it was time for secrets to be brought to light, "What is your name, clever girl?"

"Vivien."

"That is a beautiful name, Vivien. Tell me child, can you keep a secret?" Gulcan asked in Pict. Vivien nodded.

"Then let me tell you the story of how I came to be amongst Hardte's ranks…"

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><p>"…and did you tell anyone else?" Tristan asked in an unusually quiet tone when Vivien had finished telling him what Gulcan had disclosed to her earlier in the afternoon.<p>

"No. He said it was just a story, but from what you said of your Gawain, it speaks truth."

"First of all, he's not my Gawain. He's Awen's Gawain. Secondly, we don't tell anyone about this until I've had a chance to talk to Gawain. I mean no one, Vivien. Not even someone who doesn't speak the same language. No one must know. Do you understand?" Tristan asked, his unusually low voice coming out as a growl near the end.

"Yes. I understand. Why did he tell me, Tristan? Why not tell Awen? Or even you? Someone who knows of Gawain?"

"I don't know, pet," Tristan looked out towards the setting sun and cursed, aware of Vivien flinching at the profanity, "Listen, I have to go hear Arthur talk about god knows what for god knows how long so we'll pick this back up later. Are you sleeping in the maid's quarters?"

"Well yes, but you aren't allowed down there!" Vivien practically squeaked with embarrassment. Tristan gave her a wolfish grin.

"That's never stopped me before." Tristan punctuated the thought with a light kiss to the corner of Vivien's mouth and was out of sight before the blush could form on her cheeks.

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><p>"TRISTAN!" Gawain bellowed once he had restored his clothing to its rightful position.<p>

"Oh, I am terribly sorry to intrude. Was I interrupting something? Perhaps the long overdue consummation of a marriage? I may be incorrect, but aren't you supposed to have a more romantic setting than a storage cupb…"

Gawain felt a small amount of relief in being able to choke the air from Tristan's lungs, as he was sure killing him would be frowned upon based on the information he was able to provide. Gawain liked this particular warrior; he was a good hand with a sword and did truly beautiful work with scabbards, but sometimes Gawain wanted to kill him for his jokes gone awry or truly horrid sense of humor and that was just the way they functioned. Unfortunately for Tristan, Gawain now added another instance to which he would consider killing his friend…intercourse interruption.

He had been so close; so painfully close to being inside this wanton woman he called wife and Tristan had to come knocking on all the bloody doors in all the bloody castle. Awen may have been a minx born of seduction (what with her leaning her slight frame against his all afternoon in what he thought was archery technique, but couldn't really remember past the feel of her hands running along his arms and chest), but she was as curious as a cat. When she heard Tristan bellowing for him, she immediately disentangled her half-covered limbs from his and poked her head out the door of whatever room it was he had pushed her into when they reached the castle.

Gawain briefly considered letting Tristan pass out from lack or air before he felt Awen slap the arm he was using to pin his comrade to the wall. Instead of chastising him for Tristan's slightly purple face, Awen pointed to her ear and made a face that was clearly not amused. Suddenly connecting the dots, Gawain chuckled and released Tristan to push the hair back from the ear he had abused yelling at his foolish friend.

"I'm sorry, Awen." Gawain said, pressing a kiss to her offended appendage and receiving another slap from Awen in recompense. She pushed him away slightly and pulled a look that said he was crazy for thinking a kiss would dull the ringing in her ear, before muttering something in Pict and turning from the men to slap the side of her head, wishing for better results.

A slightly woozy Tristan looked on the exchange with a bemused expression, but decided he should leave his comments to himself until after he told Gawain of the stories provided by Gulcan.

"What do you want aside from thoroughly ruining my night?" Gawain asked. Tristan knew he should've kept the comment to himself, but he just couldn't help himself.

"I'm more than happy to pick up where she left off if you'll make an honest woman out of me. Although, from the talk about Camelot, it doesn't sound like you've been able to accomplish that." Tristan said with a glance in Awen's direction.

Before Gawain's fist could connect with his skull, Tristan ducked and pushed away from the wall.

"It seems you're in a foul mood this evening, so I'll just cut to the chase, shall I? What do you know of the Pict Gulcan, who arrived with your charming wife here?" Tristan said as he draped an arm across Awen's shoulders. Gawain smirked, anticipating the action before Tristan could and watched in amusement as Awen used Tristan's arm to flip him over her frame and kick his ribs when he met the floor.

Tiratan gasped for much needed air as Awen pulled the knife from her leggings and sat on his chest, pulling the blade flush to his throat.

"Why say 'Gulcan'?" Awen all but screeched into Tristan's very surprised face.

"Yes, Tristan. Please tell us. Why mention Gulcan?" Gawain said, leaning against the wall he had almost strangled Tristan against moments before with a Cheshire grin on his face.

Tristan looked back and forth between the two of them as though they had switched heads before bursting out laughing, causing Awen's blade to nick the skin of his neck.

"My god, man. If Arthur can arrange marriages this perfect, then I will happily sign up as his next victim. She's bloody brilliant!" Tristan chuckled to himself, "And what a pleasure it is to meet you properly, Awen. Decorum doesn't suit you, my dear."

"Just say your peace and be done with it, man. We've no mood for your games tonight." Gawain sighed, making no motion to remove Awen from Tristan nor her blade from his bleeding throat.

"As I was saying, this Gulcan character chose to tell an interesting tale to the woman, Vivien, and as it pertains to you I thought you might like to hear it before it swarms the castle as rumors inevitably do." Tristan dwalled out nonchalantly, placing his arms behind his head in the picture of ease (if not for the Pict girl sitting on his chest with a knife to his throat).

"Well? Out with it man, or I'll let Awen slit your throat out of boredom."

"Turns out your pal Gulcan once was a warrior for Uther. He offered himself as captive when Hardte's father ransacked their village in exchange for his family's life…"

"I don't see how this pertains to me, Tristan."

"Then don't interrupt! Anyways, he ended up making his way through the ranks at an alarming speed and ended as Hardte's right hand when he took control from his father. But…and here's the important part…he left a wife and child while he was making his way in the Pict army; trying to get home to them. When Hardte granted him this boon, he found his son was gone to be a soldier and his wife had been given the unpleasant death that only women know. Sounding a pinch familiar?" Tristan asking Gawain while looking at Awen's befuddled expression.

"There are many stories that begin and end the same as mine, Tristan. Do you expect me to share some sort of comradery with the man based on circumstance?"

"No, I just wanted to ask what your mother's name was before I start making wild conjectures as to your parentage." Tristan said as he watched Awen's face go from confused to calculating. Tristan couldn't help but give the girl an enormous amount of respect. She didn't speak the language fluently, but she could follow along like she was reading a book.

Gawain paused and shifted on his feet uncomfortably before muttering, "Miriam" under his breath.

Awen gasped, dropping her knife and scrambling off Tristan like he had suddenly burst into flame. Tristan nodded and looked at both of them before addressing Gawain.

"Gulcan had a wife named Miriam; gone from this world thirteen years if Vivien's recount is accurate. Is it safe to assume that the similarity is uncanny?" Tristan stood and looked at Gawain.

Gawain nodded and looked to Awen who slowly nodded the legitimacy of Gulcan's past.

Tristan had never been accused of being the smartest lad in the bunch, but he knew when his presence was unnecessary and took his leave without another word leaving the odd couple to Camelot's newest revelation.

* * *

><p>He didn't know how long he sat staring into the fire. Every now and again, Awen would throw another log into the flames to keep them burning, but other than that, he had no way to mark the passage of time.<p>

Awen had been remarkably quiet since that twat Tristan had sent his world spinning. She did nothing but sharpen her various blades and throw wood on the fire when it threatened to die.

"Awen."

The sound of her sharpening stopped and he listened to her quiet footfalls as she drew closer to him.

"Gawain," she said kneeling next to his prone form by the hearth.

Without taking his eyes from the flames, he asked, "Awen, what kind of man is Gulcan?"

He didn't see her puzzled expression, nor did he see her mouth the words back at him trying to understand them.

"Gulcan is man," Awen said unsure if that was the answer he wanted.

Gawain smirked and turned his head from the fire to regard Awen. She was looking at him like perhaps he was a bit thick and maybe shouldn't question if men were men. He turned himself from the fire and took her hands. She looked at him questioningly, but said nothing.

"Is he a good man, Awen?"

"Yes, he good."

"Is he kind?"

"Yes, kind"

"Good and kind to women?"

"Women? No. No women but Miriam. He talk of Miriam always."

"Did he ever talk of a son?"

"No. Always Miriam."

Gawain nodded, but said nothing, instead twining and untwining his fingers with Awen's.

"Gawain?"

"Yes, Awen?" He responed without looking up, pulling Awen's fingers up to his mouth and pressing kisses to her slim, scarred knuckles.

"If Gulcan have son, Hardte would want for warrior. If he had, no say, to keep away Hardte…"

"I know Awen. I may not understand the ways of your people, but I understand wars and those who fight in them."

Awen sat quietly and let Gawain continue to press his lips to her hands until he turned his mouth into her palm and stopped there to rest his face again her callused flesh. She didn't know why, but she wanted so desperately to erase that terribly sad expression from his face.

Pulling her hand from his she carded her fingers through his hair, pushing it back from his face. He gave her a faint smile that didn't reach his eyes and it angered her. He wasn't allowed to be sad. She didn't care if Gulcan was his father or if that stupid Tristan was spreading lies; he wasn't allowed to be sad when she was there and able to make him stop being sad. It was simple, really. He wasn't sad when they were kissing, so she kissed him.

Once he recovered from the initial shock of being part of a kiss instigated by Awen, Gawain responded in kind; weaving his fingers into her wild hair and feeling the firm press of her slight frame against his. She pushed further, her tongue against his, his back against the furs on the floor, their legs twined.

Later, when he was back to his senses, he would wince as he recalled the complete lack of finesse exercised, but in the moment it was just her skin against his. Pulling off clothing, her bare skin flush against his; her gasp bit off by his lips when he slipped his fingers into her. His groan against the skin of her throat when she wrapped her slender, sure fingers around his painfully erect cock.

Neither of them knew quite how it happened, but her back is against the furs now and he's above her, and he's rubbing against her and between her legs and she wants him everywhere all at once and she's almost mad with the want.

Gawain knows she has no idea what she's in for and there'll be pain before there's pleasure, because that's just the way life is. He smiles at this small epiphany, but her wild eyes pull him back to the moment and he smiles a wolf smile down on her before she attacks his mouth and he pushes into her slowly.

She gasps and bites down on his lip until she tastes his blood against her tongue. It hurts. Bridge said it might, but she didn't say how much. It hurt from the inside and pressure was almost unbearable. He seemed never ending and the pressure wouldn't end. She could hear him hushing her, his lips at her ear and his whole body shaking. She wondered if it hurt him too. Pulling his face towards hers, she locked eyes with him trying to express whatever the pressure was, but she had no words to use.

Gawain brushed the tears from her cheeks that she didn't know she had shed and nodded.

"I know, Awen," He said in a nearly unrecognizable voice that was deep and trembled, "It hurts, but it will pass. Wait and don't move unless you want to."

Awen nodded and shifted her weight, trying to alleviate some of the pressure, but then Gawain moaned so deeply she could feel it resonate through her entire being. She didn't know what had just happened, but she wanted it to happen again. She shifted her hips, trying the pressure and finding that it had lessened with the pain and was now bearable, if not a little uncomfortable; but his reaction was well worth the slight discomfort of him stretching her. His lips trembled out a gasp and his head dropped onto her shoulder, his own shoulders shaking.

"Lord, Awen. You'll be the death of me." Gawain said pushing his weight back onto his elbows, "I'm going to move, Awen, and I want you to tell me to stop if it hurts at all. Do you understand? Any pain and I'll stop."

Awen nodded and physically braced herself. It felt okay when she moved, but she didn't know what would happen when he did. He said it might hurt. She didn't want it to hurt like that again.

Biting her lip, she felt Gawain's gaze focus on her as he shifted his hips ever so slightly. It didn't feel bad, just different; so Awen looked back into his too dark eyes and nodded her assent.

Slowly, Gawain's hips pulled away from her and he slid out of her body until almost nothing of him remained and just as slowly pushed back in with a barely concealed groan.

This…was good, Awen decided. It still felt strange, not at all how it felt with his fingers inside of her, but there was a certain fullness to having Gawain in her. She let go of the breath she hadn't known she'd been holding and saw Gawain smile above her as he pulled back again, pushed in again.

Awen soon caught on to the movement of his hips and canted her own against his, finding it more pleasurable with him pushing in than out.

Gawain watched her, if for no other reason than to distract him from the feel of her slick and hot and tighter than a vambrace around him. She was incredible. She was stunning. She would be his undoing. She was lifting her leg and wrapping it around his hips and his eyes crossed at the new sensation. His vision regained clarity when he heard her gasp with his next thrust. She looked at him with something close to awe in her eyes and he smiled. He had just found how to pleasure her and it made him feel like God.

"Do again." Awen demanded in a furious whisper.

"My pleasure, milady." Gawain said with a rock of his hips into hers.

Awen eyes rolled back and she let loose a moan that would stay in his memory until his dying breath left him. She was magnificent. She was his. He was hers.

What little control he had left withered away into nothingness and soon they were thrusting with each other, slamming together in a frenzy of panting and sweat and pleasure. The sensation in Awen's stomach coiled tighter and tighter until she couldn't feel anything but Gawain around her, inside her, encompassing her. Higher and higher she went until with a spasm and a strangled sob she came hard against Gawain. He wanted to watch her, to see her lost in bliss, but her orgasm left her clenching around him so hard he could barely breathe and he spilled into her with such force he thought he might have lost consciousness from it.

Awen lay there, with Gawain collapsed atop her, breathing harsh and body weightless. She didn't know why, but she felt she could sprout wings and fly and it made her laugh. Gawain turned his face towards hers and smiled.

"Do I want to know why you're laughing?" Gawain croaked in a voice almost too gravelly to recognize.

Awen paused in her laughing and looked back at him.

"Do again?"

Gawain laughed and his body shook atop hers. Awen found herself laughing again and when he rolled off of her and onto his back, she followed and sprawled across his torso.

"Of course we can, Awen. As often as you want." Gawain said with a grin. Awen grinned back and kissed him before throwing her leg over his and rubbing against him.

"Oh, you hell cat! Give me a minute.' Gawain groaned in mock misery before flipping her onto her back again and pulling her leg up around his waist.

"Hell cat?" Awen queried, arching her back and rubbing herself against his semi-erect cock. Gawain groaned.

"Yes, my beautiful Awen. You most certainly are a hell cat."

Awen didn't know what that meant, but if she could get him inside of her again by being a 'hell cat' then she was happy to do so.

* * *

><p>Well? What did we think? This story isn't over and hopefully the lemon wasn't rotten and there will be more to come—think of all the positions curious Awen has to discover—but, review so I know if it was terrible or not! Please!<p> 


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